


all was well

by goodbye_yellowbrickroad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Character Development, Coming Out, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Homophobic Slurs, Hufflepuff!Courfeyrac, M/M, Non-binary character, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Slytherin!Enjolras, because im not writing a beauxbatons au thats why, chapter one drags a lot, chapter one is essentially a prologue, eventual enjoltaire, general slurs, gryffindor!grantaire, les amis are british au, let’s play who can spot those avpm references, ooc harry and ron, petrification, plus i changed some things to fit my plot, ravenclaw!combeferre, sometimes it goes with the book and sometimes with the movie, timeline is in sync with the harry potter timeline, why are they british you ask?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_yellowbrickroad/pseuds/goodbye_yellowbrickroad
Summary: There was a blanket of grey clouds that covered the night sky, blocking the stars from view and keeping the moon from lighting up the world below. The darkness was heavy and it threatened to swallow the four young men whole and suffocate them. Three of them looked around hopelessly, so sure that this was to be the end of them all. But Courfeyrac smiled for he remembered a time from their childhoods. Courfeyrac looped his arm with Grantaire’s and his other one with Combeferre’s. Grantaire reached out and grasped Enjolras’ hand tightly. And they all smiled then. “Us four,” Courfeyrac choked. “We’ll stick together.”





	1. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is overwhelming but also wonderful, Combeferre is anxious, Enjolras is upset with the house he’s been Sorted into, and Grantaire is just generally confused.

Courfeyrac was bouncing excitedly on his heels, overwhelmed and overjoyed that September first had arrived at last! He’d only been counting down to it for four weeks since he found out about the magical place called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but those few weeks had felt like _years_ to excitable, eleven-year-old Courfeyrac. 

 

He was saddened because his mother couldn’t be there with him before he shipped off to a wizarding school until Christmas. Things had been so complicated ever since they found out about Courfeyrac’s extraordinary abilities. Ends had already been tight before they had to go out to a place called Diagon Alley, escorted by a real live witch, to buy a wand and spell books and robes and a cauldron and all sorts of crazy things like that. So Courfeyrac’s mother just couldn’t afford to take a day  — or even a morning — off of work. 

 

She had kissed the top of his head and cried and held him close for a long time that morning until she had to leave for work and Courfeyrac understood why she couldn’t come, why he had to ride the bus to King’s Cross alone, he really did. That didn’t stop him from feeling sad, though. 

 

He’d run into a little bit of trouble when he had seen the platform number on his ticket upon arrival. Platform nine and three quarters — that wasn’t a thing!

 

Courfeyrac had made the mistake of going to one of the security guards and asking how he was supposed to get to platform nine and three quarters, but the man had only gotten angry with him, snapped, “There ain’t no such thing, boy!” before telling him to stop wasting his time and stalking away. 

 

“Sir, wait, I have my ticket here!” Courfeyrac shouted after him. “Sir — please — a bird gave it to me!”

 

But the guard didn’t look back. 

 

Courfeyrac sank down to the ground and sat on top of his trunk, chin in the palm of his hand. “Well, what am I supposed to do now?” he wondered aloud.

 

“All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten.”

 

Courfeyrac looked up quickly, eyes searching for the voice that might just be answering all of his troubles. It took a moment but he did find the woman with flaming red hair that was speckled with bits of grey who was standing with two boys who must have been about his own age. 

 

“Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

 

Courfeyrac watched carefully as the boy who the woman was talking to, a kid with jet black hair, hesitated for a moment then ran straight toward the wall. Courfeyrac’s eyes were wide, positive that the poor boy was going to crash into the brick wall and break his face, but just when he should have been sprawled out on the ground with a bleeding nose he was suddenly gone. 

 

“Go on, Ron, dear,” the woman said to the boy who was presumably her son, judging by his own red hair. 

 

The boy named Ron hesitated just as the dark-haired boy had done, but then he ran into the brick wall and disappeared into it. Finally, the woman walked confidently toward the wall — one second there, the next she was gone. 

 

“Hm,” Courfeyrac hummed thoughtfully. 

 

He got up off of his trunk and dragged it over to where the three people had been standing a minute ago. He stood there and stared at the the wall, head tilted curiously. 

 

“Um,” a voice came from behind him after a few minutes. “Are you okay?”

 

“Hm?” Courfeyrac turned and found himself face to face with a boy the same height as him, with curly hair sort of like his. 

 

“You’ve been staring at that brick wall for, like, five minutes?” the boy said. “I was starting to think you were brain dead or something.”

 

Courfeyrac leaned to look at the trunk that this curly-haired kid was standing in front of. “Where are you going?” he asked instead of explaining himself. 

 

“Boarding school,” the kid said. 

 

“Which one?”

 

“You’ve never heard of it.”

 

“Which one?” he asked again. 

 

“No, seriously, you’ve never heard of it.”

 

Courfeyrac crossed his arms. “Try me.”

 

“It’s called Hogwarts.”

 

Courfeyrac smirked. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

 

The boy’s eyes grew wide as tennis balls. “You know it? Are you going too?”

 

“That’s why I’m staring at this brick wall!” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“What do you mean?” asked the boy.

 

“This is how you get onto platform nine and three quarters!” Courfeyrac told him. “I saw some witch telling a kid how to get on the platform! You run right into that wall!”

 

The kid raised one eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that I need run into a freaking brick wall?”

 

Courfeyrac crossed his arms again. “To get to the secret school where we’re going to learn magic, yes.”

 

“Fair enough.” The kid shrugged his shoulders. 

 

“What do you say?” Courfeyrac held out his hand to the boy. “Together?”

 

The kid grinned and took Courfeyrac’s hand. He squeezed it tightly. “Together it is.”

 

They both held onto their trunks tightly with their free hands and, after glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, they ran full force at the brick. As it drew closer and closer they were so sure they’d crash into it, but all of a sudden they were on the other side and there was a great big purple train that read  _ HOGWARTS EXPRESS  _ across the side in huge letters. Wizards and witches were bustling about with their children, pushing them up onto the train. 

 

“Whoa!” Courfeyrac exclaimed as he stared around at it all in wonder. 

 

“I’m Grantaire, by the way,” said the boy standing at his side, and though they’d been holding hands only a few moments ago, he stuck his hand out.

 

Courfeyrac grinned at him. He grasped Grantaire’s hand tightly and shook it. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

 

“Come on, let’s find a seat on the train! We can sit together!” Grantaire made a beeline for the Hogwarts Express, motioning for Courfeyrac to follow him which he did, gladly. 

 

They sprinted happily past the compartments, most of which were already packed tight with students, and they dragged their trunks behind them, quite nearly knocking several people over with them. On and on they went, further and further down the train, looking for somewhere that they could be alone and talk, just the two of them.

 

Courfeyrac stopped by one compartment. “Hey, Grantaire, wait up!” he called to his new friend who stopped and turned to look at him. “What about this one?”

 

“It’s empty?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“There’s one kid.” Courfeyrac shrugged.

 

Grantaire shrugged too. “Okay, cool.”

 

Courfeyrac slid the compartment door open and poked his head in. “Hey, is it okay if we sit in here with you?”

 

The kid looked up from the book he was reading. His hair was strawberry blond and he wore round spectacles. For a moment Courfeyrac thought this kid looked to be a pompous asshole, one who would say he was too smart for them, but he judged the boy too fast because a moment later he smiled. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” the boy said and he gestured for Courfeyrac to enter. 

 

Courfeyrac walked in with his trunk dragging behind him. He hoisted it up onto the shelf above the seats while Grantaire followed him into the compartment and greeted the boy neither of them knew. Grantaire lifted his trunk up so that it sat beside Courfeyrac’s. 

 

When Grantaire and Courfeyrac sat down across from the boy with glasses he reached out his hand and said, “I’m Combeferre.”

 

“Nice to meet you!” Courfeyrac shook his hand. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

 

“Grantaire,” said Grantaire. 

 

Combeferre smiled at them again. He closed his book and set it aside. “Is this your first year at Hogwarts?”

 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said. “You?”

 

“Yeah, same here,” Combeferre said. 

 

“It’s so interesting to hear all about it, isn’t it?” Grantaire said. 

 

“Yeah!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. “The witch who escorted me and my mum to Diagon Alley was exhausted by the end of the day because I wouldn’t stop badgering her about Hogwarts, what types of magic they teach, what it looks like,” he laughed. 

 

“So your parents are Muggles?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Mine, too,” Grantaire said. “Yours?”

 

“Oh, both of my parents are magical,” Combeferre said. “But they’ve both been a big part of the rights movements for Muggles and muggleborns. Pretty much my whole family fought You-Know-Who in the war.”

 

“You-Know-Who?” Grantaire furrowed his brow. 

 

“War?” Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Oh, right,” Combeferre said. “You wouldn’t know about all of that. Well, there was this really awful wizard who thought that Muggles should know who we are — we being the wizarding community — and be governed by us. He thought muggleborns were lesser, that they shouldn’t be allowed into wizarding schools, and he started a whole war because he thought  _ he  _ should lead the wizarding world.”

 

“Whoa,” was all Grantaire could think to say. 

 

“And his name was… You-Know-Who?” Courfeyrac asked.

 

“Well, that’s what everyone calls him,” Combeferre said. “Everyone’s too afraid to say his name.”

 

“That seems a little silly, don’t you think?” Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Well, you don’t know the stories of the war,” Combeferre sighed. “It was terrible. Everyone was living in fear for years, people lost their whole families. So many people died.”

 

“What was his name?” Grantaire asked. 

 

Combeferre shook his head quickly. “I can’t say it.”

 

“Come on, we won’t tell anyone that you did,” Courfeyrac urged. 

 

“ _ No, _ ” Combeferre said firmly. “I’m sorry, but — but it’s a big deal in the wizarding world. You just  _ don’t say it. _ ”

 

Grantaire and Courfeyrac both looked rather disappointed, but they nodded in understanding. 

 

“So,” Combeferre said, trying to keep his tone light, eager to change the subject, “what house do you think you’ll be in?”

 

“What?” Grantaire said, confused. 

 

“Okay, so basically you’re sorted into four houses when you arrive,” Combeferre said. “You’ll live in dorms with the other people in your house, you’ll take class with them, and there are these long tables, one for each house, in the Great Hall. There’s Gryffindor, the house of bravery; Ravenclaw, house of wit; Hufflepuff, house of kindness; and Slytherin, house of cunning and ambition.”

 

“Oh,” Grantaire said. His face told that something was bothering him.

 

“I sort of hope I’m in Ravenclaw,” Courfeyrac said. “It would be a nice laugh in all of my Muggle teachers’ faces.”

 

“I don’t know if I quite fit into  _ any  _ of those,” Grantaire said. He began picking at the loose threads of his sleeves. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Combeferre said. “You’re going to be in  _ some  _ house. And anyway, what’s nice for you is that you don’t have to worry about being in the same house as the rest of your family.”

 

“What do you mean?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“See, most families are all in the same house,” Combeferre told them. “All of my family is in Gryffindor and has been pretty much forever. Well, since Hogwarts was founded, anyway. They expect me to be in Gryffindor, too,”

 

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“Gryffindor pride is a big deal,” Combeferre sighed. “They and the Slytherins have a pretty serious rivalry.”

 

“Oh, that stinks,” Grantaire said.

 

“Hey, guys, we’re moving!” Courfeyrac leaped up and pressed his face against the window. 

 

The boys had been so invested into their discussions that they hadn’t even realized they’d left King’s Cross Station. Combeferre and Grantaire got up out of their seats to join Courfeyrac at the window. Together they watched the British countryside whizzing past them. 

 

The compartment door slid open and they turned to see an old woman pushing a tray full of sweets around. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

 

“Oh, you two have  _ got  _ to try wizard’s candy!” Combeferre grinned and he leapt to his feet.

 

And so the three of them soon found themselves sitting with things that Grantaire and Courfeyrac had never heard of like Pumpkin Pasties and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. 

 

“This is crazy,” Courfeyrac said, words muffled by the entire Pumpkin Pasty shoved inside of his mouth. “These are way better than any candies I’ve ever had!”

 

“They’re amazing!” Grantaire shouted with a bean that tasted like a turkey dinner in his mouth. At the very same time, the compartment door slid open again. 

 

The three boys looked up to see a girl with very large hair standing there. She was already in uniform and instead of saying hello or introducing herself she asked, “Have you seen a toad? A boy called Neville’s lost one.”

 

“A toad?” Courfeyrac asked, mouth agape. 

 

“No, we haven’t seen one, sorry,” Combeferre said while Grantaire and Courfeyrac exchanged looks of curiosity. “We’ll be sure to come and find you if we do see one, though.”

 

The girl nodded. “Thank you,” she said, then she was off.

 

“A  _ toad? _ ” Grantaire said, astonished. 

 

“Yeah, you know you can bring a pet to Hogwarts,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Yeah, but that’s like black cats, isn’t it?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“Any cat,” Combeferre corrected. “Or a toad. Or an owl.”

 

“An  _ owl! _ ” Courfeyrac said dreamily. “Now wouldn’t that be something?”

 

For a third time since Courfeyrac and Grantaire arrived in the compartment, the door opened. This time, it flew open and all any of them saw was a blur of white feathers that came in through the door and slammed into the window, falling gracelessly to the floor. A cat moaned and hissed and a boy with blond curls that had gone askew rushed into the compartment. His face was bright red and he yelled, “ _ No,  _ Deryn!”

 

Combeferre screeched when a cat fell from above and into his lap. 

 

There was a shout of, “Felix!” as the cat zoomed across the compartment to grab at the lump of feathers that lay on the ground. 

 

“Deryn!” the blond boy said sharply when the owl took flight to move out of the cat’s reach. “For heaven's sake! Come here!” The owl, Deryn, fluttered over and sat down on the boy’s arm. 

 

“Combeferre, you didn’t say you had a cat!” Courfeyrac exclaimed happily as he scooped Felix into his arms. He scratched behind his ears and laughed when the cat began licking his fingers.

 

“Sorry — I’m really sorry — she’s just such a spaz!” the blond boy huffed. 

 

“It’s no problem.” Grantaire gave him a warm smile.

 

“Do you — do you mind if I sit here with you the rest of the ride?” the boy asked, his face still bright red.

 

“Um, yeah,” Grantaire said. “Are you… okay?”

 

“I got into an argument with some fourth years,” said the boy, closing the door behind himself and flopping into the seat beside Combeferre. 

 

Deryn fluttered up onto a shelf and sat herself down beside Grantaire’s luggage while Felix climbed back on top of Combeferre’s trunk. 

 

“Fourth years?” Combeferre’s eyes grew wide. “Why? How?”

“Never mind, it’s not a big deal. They were just being idiots. Sorry I brought it up,” said the boy. “I’m Enjolras, by the way.”

 

“I’m Combeferre.”

 

“Grantaire. Nice to meet you.”

 

“And I am Courfeyrac.”

 

“Are you all first years?” Enjolras asked.

 

“Yeah,” said Combeferre.

 

“Cool,” Enjolras said, nodding, “me too.”

 

“Are your parents part of the wizarding world?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“Yeah, they are,” Enjolras said. “How about you?”

 

“Mine are Muggles,” Grantaire said. 

 

“I’ve only got a mum and she’s a Muggle,” Courfeyrac said. “Never knew my dad but Mum says he wasn’t magical at all.”

 

“And my parents are,” Combeferre told him. “We were also talking about what houses we might end up in.”

 

“Oh, which one do you think you’ll end up in?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Gryffindor, I hope,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Ravenclaw sounds awesome!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. 

 

“I think Hufflepuff sounds like the best.” Grantaire shrugged. “Still, like I said, I don’t think I fit in with any of them.”

 

“You’ll fit in with one,” Enjolras said. “Everyone does. The Sorting Hat knows what it’s doing. I’d  _ love  _ to be in Hufflepuff, as well, personally. I just don’t think I’m really Hufflepuff material.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac said, “did you say  _ Sorting Hat? _ ”

 

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “It’s how they sort us into houses. You’ll see. It’s cool.”

 

Courfeyrac and Grantaire exchanged confused glances. 

 

A voice sounded through the air, coming seemingly from nowhere, and it told the students that they would be arriving shortly, to leave their luggage onboard, and that now was the time to change into their school uniforms. 

 

They definitely were nearing the school because by the time all four boys were dressed in their robes, the Hogwarts Express had come to a stop and there was another disembodied voice telling them to calmly and carefully make their way to the exit of the train. 

 

All the way down the train, in the hallway and coming from compartments, there were shouts from the first years of, “I cannot believe it!” and “We’re here! We’re really here!” and “Oh, I can’t wait to see the castle!”

 

Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Combeferre, and Enjolras stayed huddled together once they were off the train. 

 

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years!” called a gruff voice over the heads of the children and Enjolras, Combeferre, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac hurried in the direction of that voice. When they approached the area that the voice had been coming from, they saw a giant of a man talking to two young boys. 

 

“Those are the boys I saw at King’s Cross,” Courfeyrac hissed to Grantaire. 

 

“C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step now! Firs’ years follow me!”

 

All of the first years followed the large man down a narrow, winding path. They were slipping and sliding, it was dark, and the four new friends were pretty sure they heard someone in their group  _ crying.  _

 

The path came to an end and they were all standing at the edge of a lake. Their mouths dropped as their gazes found the huge, sparkling castle with turrets and towers, surrounded by a dark forest. They shivered and none of them could quite tell whether it was because of the wind or because of the anxious feeling pooling in their stomachs.

 

“No more’n four to a boat!” said the man who’d led them to the lake and he gestured to a small army of boats that were floating toward them of their own accord. 

 

“Come on — us four, we’ve got to stick together!” Courfeyrac looped his arms with Grantaire’s and Combeferre’s. Combeferre and Enjolras clasped hands and the four of them made a beeline for an empty boat. 

 

They climbed into a boat with such excitement they nearly tipped it over, but they huddled together and laughed and it was then that an unspoken promise was made. They would always be there for one another, no matter what. They were all scared and alone in coming to Hogwarts, but not anymore. They had found family in one another. 

 

“Everyone in?” shouted their tour guide of sorts. “Right then — forward!”

 

The boats began to move all on their own once more. The children drew closer and closer to the castle and it was soon looming over them. 

 

When they hit the harbor, the boys clambered out of the boat and onto the rocks and pebbles. The giant man was calling to one kid in particular and Grantaire pointed out that there was a toad in his hands, which were the size of something a small child would go sledding down a snowy hill on.

 

“Ah, so there he is,” Combeferre said with a smile. 

 

The first years were led up the lawn, up a set of stone stairs, and the man leading them about turned around to address them. “Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” He turned away from the children and knocked thrice on the castle door. 

 

The door swung open and a tall, severe looking witch stood there.

 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.”

 

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” 

 

And so, again, the first years were made to parade along to wherever their leader may go. No one was telling them where it was they were headed. An anxious feeling was settling, heavy, in the air. 

 

They all huddled closely in the hall Professor McGonagall had led them into when she stopped suddenly in her tracks and whipped around to face them all. 

 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she said. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves as much as you can while you are waiting.”

 

Enjolras quickly started running his hands through his curls that were still askew from earlier on the train ride. Grantaire tried to flatten his curly, unruly hair and saw another boy across the room doing the same to his jet black hair that seemed to defy gravity. Combeferre was huffing hot breath on his glasses and shining them on his robes. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. 

 

“Look at this jerk,” Courfeyrac said, pointing out a boy with blond hair even lighter than Enjolras’ who was getting in someone’s face. “We can’t even make it to the first day of classes without some dumb people starting trouble.”

 

“Ugh,” Combeferre huffed. 

 

Enjolras threw his eyes in a dramatic circle.

 

Professor McGonagall returned then and instructed them to form two lines and follow her into the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony. As they entered the hall, Combeferre and Enjolras were admiring the ceiling which was enchanted to look like the sky above, pointing out constellations that the stars formed. Behind them, Grantaire and Courfeyrac were huddled closely together, looking around nervously at all of the faces staring at them as they made their way toward the Head Table. 

 

Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of the first years, who had abandoned their lines and were now grouped tightly together to try and get a look at what she was doing, and then she placed a pointed wizard’s hat on top of the stool. 

 

Grantaire leaned in close to Courfeyrac and whispered so that only he could hear him, “What’s that all about, do you think?”

 

“No clue,” Courfeyrac whispered back, shaking his head. 

 

Then, suddenly and inexplicably and to Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s utter astonishment, the old, battered hat began to  _ sing. _ It proceeded to sing a whole song all about itself and the four houses and everyone except for the very confused, sort of terrified muggleborn first years burst into cheers and applause. 

 

“What just happened?” Courfeyrac asked Grantaire, eyes wide. 

 

Grantaire only shook his head in response, having gone completely speechless. 

 

Most of the people in the Great Hall moved on quickly from the Sorting Hat’s song, but Courfeyrac and Grantaire still stood there looking dumb with their mouths hanging open. 

 

Professor McGonagall conjured up a long piece of parchment and began summoning children to sit on the stool where she would drop the hat atop their heads. Sometimes the hat would take quite a long time, and sometimes it wouldn’t take any time at all, but it was always the same; the hat would shout out the name of a Hogwarts house and that child then belonged to that house for the next seven years. 

 

A boy called Bahorel was sorted into Gryffindor and as he ran through the huddle of first years he reached out and high fived Combeferre at random.

 

When the kid standing behind Grantaire was called up, a boy called Bossuet, he tripped over Courfeyrac’s foot. He apologized profusely as he bumped into several people on his way to the stool. Bossuet was visibly shaking and sweating, but he needn’t worry. The moment the hat was dropped onto his head, it called out, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

Bossuet hurried to the Hufflepuff table, ducking his head and blushing at all of the applause. 

 

As more kids were called up to be sorted, Courfeyrac and Grantaire noticed that when people were sorted into Slytherin, some people would boo. They pointed this out to Combeferre and Enjolras.

 

“Bit overdramatic, isn’t it?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

Enjolras and Combeferre both looked uncomfortable and were trying to figure out how to answer. Lucky for them, just then, Combeferre was called up to be sorted. 

 

Combeferre thought that the hat might take some time with him. He knew that he wasn’t exactly like the rest of his family; he knew that he wasn’t your average Gryffindor. But the hat had barely touched his head when it cried; “RAVENCLAW!”

 

Combeferre sat, frozen in shock. Professor McGonagall had to nudge him off the stool and point out the Ravenclaw house table to him. Combeferre slunk past his fellow first years and Courfeyrac and Grantaire reached out to try and talk to him, but he moved away from them.

 

Professor McGonagall was calling for the next first year listed on her scroll while Courfeyrac was watching Combeferre walk away, thinking he might actually walk away from the group to go and comfort his new friend. 

 

“Courfeyrac!” Grantaire hissed. 

 

McGonagall was very red in the face, snapping out Courfeyrac’s name. 

 

Courfeyrac scrambled up to the stool, hopped up, and avoided Professor McGonagall’s eyes as she dropped the hat over his head. A moment later, the hat exclaimed, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

Suddenly, Courfeyrac forgot that he’d already pissed off a professor and that Combeferre was sad, because he was very pleased with himself. He was in the house of the  _ kind,  _ and sure he’d been hoping for the house of intelligence or bravery, but this was good too. He was kind. He took his place at the Hufflepuff table with a smile. 

 

The next two girls were made Ravenclaws and then a boy was made a Gryffindor, then Enjolras’ name was called. He took a deep breath in, blew it out slowly, then walked up to the stool. He took his seat and felt as if he did so in slow motion. Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head and it dropped over his eyes so that he was encased in blackness.

 

“ _ Hmmm… _ ”

 

Enjolras jumped at the voice that sounded inside his head. 

 

“ _ Interesting… Very long line of magical blood in you, eh? _ ” the Sorting Hat chuckled. “ _ Now let’s see what we have here. A kind heart, surely. I can see that clear as day, but you’re no Hufflepuff. _ ”

 

Enjolras bit the inside of his lip. 

 

“ _ But your bravery, _ ” the Sorting Hat said, “ _ it could very well be unmatched. But bravery, it isn’t all it takes to be a Gryffindor, you know. No, no. Gryffindor is not the place for you. _ ”

 

Enjolras frowned. 

 

“ _You’ve got a good head on those shoulders. Perhaps Ravenclaw is where you ought to be!_ ” The Sorting Hat considered this. “ _Yes, yes! Such intelligence! But wait… What is this?_ ”

 

Enjolras’ breath caught in his throat. 

 

“ _ Your ambition! You have plans, aspirations, dreams that even you have yet to discover! You will do great things! _ ”

 

Enjolras held his breath and squeezed the edges of the stool tightly. 

 

“ _ Yes, I know where you belong, Enjolras. Though you shy away from it, and though you dread it, in the years to come you will thank me…” _

 

To the entire hall the Sorting Hat announced that Enjolras now belonged to, “SLYTHERIN!”

 

The hat was lifted from Enjolras’ head and as he made his way to the Slytherin table he saw Grantaire’s face, unsure of how to react. He spotted Combeferre in the crowd, mouth agape. He saw two boys with bright red hair booing him and heard the applause of the Slytherins. He sunk into a seat beside a boy who didn’t look to be very much older then him and tried to hide his face.

 

After Enjolras, a nervous girl was made a Slytherin and an energetic boy was made a Gryffindor before Grantaire’s name was called. 

 

While Combeferre and Courfeyrac were sorted immediately, Grantaire, like Enjolras, heard a voice inside his head upon having the hat dropped atop him. 

 

“ _ Well, well, well. Another complicated brain for me to sort through, _ ” the Sorting Hat sighed. “ _ Intelligent, yes, but not Ravenclaw material. _ ”

 

Grantaire scoffed.

 

“ _ Not quite a Hufflepuff… I know… I know where to put you!” _

 

And to the Great Hall he yelled, “GRYFFINDOR!”

 

Something was wrong. There must have been some mistake. Grantaire wasn’t  _ brave,  _ he wasn’t  _ chivalrous,  _ he was just… Grantaire. 

 

When he walked find a place at the Gryffindor table, he did so slowly. 

 

It dawned on the four friends then that they were suddenly separated. Mere hours after they’d banded together, they were forcibly split up and there was no around it. 

 

***

 

Though the four of them had been discouraged, the next morning they found out that houses were paired together for classes. For instance, first thing after breakfast that morning, first year Gryffindors had Herbology in the greenhouses behind the castle with first year Hufflepuffs so Grantaire and Courfeyrac were in class together. Meanwhile, first year Slytherins and first year Ravenclaws were in History of Magic together so Enjolras and Combeferre found desks beside one another at the front of the class. 

 

“Who’s that Harry Potter kid everyone’s talking about?” Courfeyrac asked Grantaire quietly while they were working with the plants. 

 

“He’s in Gryffindor with me,” Grantaire said. “I don’t know what’s so special about him, but everyone’s going mad about him.” He shrugged but gestured to where he stood in the class.

 

“Oh, hey, that’s one of the boys I saw at King’s Cross,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

Grantaire squinted at Harry Potter. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.”

 

Grantaire had Charms with Combeferre after that while Courfeyrac and Enjolras had Transfiguration. 

 

Magic wasn’t quite as easy as Grantaire and Courfeyrac had imagined it would be, and some of their classes were a lot more like their boring old classes at their regular schools than they’d been hoping for them to be. By the end of their first day of classes at Hogwarts, they were downright exhausted. 

 

Grantaire felt that he was about to fall asleep eating dinner when Combeferre and Courfeyrac sat down on either side of him.    
  


“What’re you doing?” Grantaire asked curiously. “This isn’t your table.”

 

“What does it matter, really?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“Yeah, we haven’t got any friends in our houses,” Combeferre said. 

 

“We want to eat with our friends so we’re going to,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“We’ll go back to our tables if a professor says anything about it,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Yeah,  _ maybe, _ ” Courfeyrac laughed. 

 

“But until then,” Combeferre continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “we’re sitting right here with you.”

  
“Well, good, I was starting to get lonely,” Grantaire said. “Enjolras didn’t think it was a good idea to come sit at the Gryffindor table, I suppose? There  _ is  _ that whole rivalry between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, isn’t there? So he’s buying into all that, is he? I was hoping we’d still be friends...”

 

“No, no, we went to get him at his table,” Combeferre said. 

 

“He wasn’t there,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug. 

 

“Huh,” Grantaire said. “Weird.”

 

“I thought so, too,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“I’m going to go look for him,” Grantaire said. Combeferre and Courfeyrac frowned after him but he hurried off before they could say anything to stop him. 

 

Grantaire checked the nearest bathrooms, empty classrooms, and he was considering hunting down the Slytherin common room when he ran into Professor Flitwick in a corridor. 

 

“Oh, why are you first years skipping out on dinner tonight?” Professor Flitwick asked in his high pitched voice. “Rough first day for you, as well?”

 

“Erm, well I was actually just looking for —” Grantaire said. 

 

“I just talked to another boy outside who said the same,” Professor Flitwick said, having not paid what Grantaire said any mind. He reached out and patted Grantaire’s arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll settle in soon enough.”

 

“Yeah.” Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. Thanks, Professor!” He hurried past the Charms professor, through the entrance hall, and out onto the lawn. 

 

Enjolras was standing on the grass, looking skyward where Deryn was flying in circles. 

 

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said. 

 

“Oh,” Enjolras said, looking up. “Hi, Grantaire.”

 

“Why weren’t you at dinner?” 

 

“I’m just feeling kind of upset,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

“Professor Flitwick said he talked to you,” Grantaire said. “Did you really have a bad first day?”

 

“Not really,” Enjolras said and he shrugged. “It was fine. I’m just upset.”

 

“What’s on your mind?” Grantaire asked.

 

Enjolras stared down at his feet, frowning, for a long while before he sighed and said, “I got sorted into  _ Slytherin. _ ”

 

“Yeah…?” Grantaire said.    
  
“Slytherin turns out more evil witches and wizards than any other house,” Enjolras said. “My whole family has been in Slytherin and — well, never mind.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, though,” Grantaire said. He reached out and held onto Enjolras’ shoulder. “It’s about who you are, not what house you’re in.”

 

Enjolras smiled. “Thanks, Grantaire. You’re really great, you know?”

 

Grantaire laughed. He did not know that. “I know,” he said anyway. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s starting to get dark.”

 

“Okay,” Enjolras agreed and they headed back toward the castle. 

 

“What about your owl? Don’t you need to bring her with you?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“No, she’ll go sleep in the owlery,” Enjolras said. 

 

“There’s an owlery?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Like a whole room just for the owls to sleep in?”

 

“Yeah,” Enjolras laughed. “They’ve got everything here at Hogwarts, you know.”

 

“Everything except television,” Grantaire snorted. 

 

Enjolras frowned. “What’s tele— tele-what?”

 

“You don’t have television  _ at all  _ in the wizarding world?” Grantaire asked, astonished. 

 

“Um — no?” Enjolras said. 

 

“Jeez!” Grantaire exclaimed. 

 

“What is it?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Well, it’s like — like moving pictures?” Grantaire asked.

  
“Well, we’ve got paintings,” Enjolras said.

 

“Paintings?” Grantaire said.

  
“Yeah, they’re —”

  
“I know what paintings are,” Grantaire said. “They don’t move.”

  
“Yes, they do!” Enjolras exclaimed.

  
“Well, the one’s here do, I suppose,” Grantaire said. “I didn’t know if those were really paintings, though.”

  
“The painting’s in the Muggle world don’t move?” Enjolras asked, astonished, and Grantaire shook his head. “ _ Weird. _ ”

 

Grantaire laughed then asked, “Oh, so what’s the big deal with this Harry Potter?”

 

“Well, do you know about You-Know-Who?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Mhm.”

 

“You-Know-Who went to the Potters’ home one night, ten years ago, and he killed Lily and James Potter,” Enjolras told him. “Then, he turned his wand on Harry, who was only a year old, and tried to kill him but for some reason he couldn’t. No one knows why, but Harry Potter survived and You-Know-Who disappeared.”

 

“Oh my god!” Grantaire said. “Did You-Know-Who die?”

 

“Some people say he did,” Enjolras said. “But not everyone. Some people think he lost all his powers and that he’s just waiting, trying to find away to restore himself.”

 

“Oh, man.” Grantaire frowned. “What do  _ you  _ think?” 

 

Enjolras was quiet for a long while. Finally, he spoke, but it wasn’t much of an answer to Grantaire’s question. “Don’t worry about You-Know-Who. He’s gone.”

 

Grantaire raised his eyebrows, but he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

 

***

 

“Combeferre!” Courfeyrac ran up to his friend at the Ravenclaw table at breakfast one morning. He flopped into the seat beside Combeferre was a wide grin plastered across his face. “We’ve got flying lessons together! Did you see? They start tomorrow! Grantaire and Enjolras have it  _ today!  _ I’m  _ so jealous!  _ Aren’t you excited?! We’re going to learn to fly!”

 

Combeferre quickly shoveled eggs into his mouth so that he was unable to reply. 

 

“Hey, guys, excited for flying lessons?” Grantaire asked with a smile when he and Enjolras joined Courfeyrac and Combeferre. 

 

“ _ I’m  _ not,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

Combeferre breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know that it wasn’t just him who was dreading flying lessons. “Neither am I,” he admitted. 

 

“What?! Why not?!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, exasperated. 

 

“Look, Courfeyrac, I know you’ve grown up in the Muggle world and this is all incredibly new and exciting for you,” Combeferre said, “and that’s great! I’m happy for you. I’m glad that you’re excited to fly! But for me, I’ve been on a broomstick and I’m no good at it.”

 

“Same here,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Everyone in my family is an incredible flier, most of them are excellent Quidditch players,” Combeferre said. “Most of them were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and some of them have even played professionally. And of course all of them were in  _ Gryffindor,  _ if I hadn’t already mentioned that enough.”

 

Grantaire opened his mouth to ask what in hell  _ Quidditch  _ was, but Enjolras was too fast for him. 

 

“What’d that say when you told them you’re in Ravenclaw?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“I — um — stillhavetotellthem,” Combeferre blurted out, trying to speak too quickly for any of his friends to understand him.

 

“You haven’t told them yet?!” Courfeyrac yelled.

 

Combeferre huffed. “We are  _ not  _ having this conversation right now. We need to get to class.”

 

“He’s right,” Grantaire said. “Come on, Enjolras. We’ve got to fly. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

 

“Not likely,” Enjolras groaned.

 

Grantaire and Enjolras, along with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years, marched out onto the lawn. 

 

“Hey, Grantaire!” A Gryffindor boy walked up to him and Enjolras. “Who’s the Slytherin?”

 

“Feuilly!” Another boy, the one who had high fived Combeferre at the sorting ceremony, walked up beside him and whacked him. “Don’t be so rude! God!”

 

Enjolras smiled at the second boy. “I’m Enjolras.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” he said and shook Enjolras’ hand. “I’m Bahorel.”

 

“Hey, Feuilly, Enjolras and I aren’t the only ones trying to break this stupid Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry,” Grantaire said and he pointed to two girls who were stood together laughing, a blonde with a red necktie and a brunette with a green one.

 

“I’m just pulling your leg — jeez!” Feuilly laughed. “Nice to meet you, Enjolras!” 

 

As it turned out, Enjolras was absolutely right. He was  _ horrible  _ with a broomstick. And it just so happened that Grantaire was just as bad, if not worse. 

 

Combeferre proved to Courfeyrac that he truly was a terrible flier the next day. But Courfeyrac, on the other hand, was a  _ natural.  _ It all came to him so easily and their flying instructor, Madam Hooch, told him that he had a real shot at making the Hufflepuff Quidditch team one day. 

 

“Comberre, what’s Quidditch?” Courfeyrac asked as they were headed back up the lawn, toward the castle for their Potions lesson. 

 

Combeferre grinned. “You’d be great at it.”

 

***

 

Their first year of school went over without a hitch. They passed all of their exams, they only  _ heard _ about how their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher turned out to be evil through stories, and none of them had any near death experiences. 

 

Exams were, admittedly, tough on the four boys. They did pass, but there were times when some of them were sure that they wouldn’t. There were nights when Grantaire was sat at the fireplace with Cosette at two in the morning, sobbing over their study notes. 

 

“Just wait ‘til you’ve gotta take the O.W.L.s,” a fifth year with dark circles beneath their eyes as they walked by them. 

 

A seventh year, whose books weren’t even open, laughed in the corner. There was a look of defeat in their eyes, and a look of resignation to said defeat. “The N.E.W.T.s — the  _ N.E.W.T.s! _ ” she laughed. 

 

Grantaire and Cosette groaned. 

 

Grantaire elected to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter holiday. Combeferre and Courfeyrac felt bad because they didn’t want to leave him alone, but they also really wanted to visit with their families. Enjolras, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home, and he volunteered to stay at school with Grantaire. 

 

It took a few weeks, but finally Combeferre could no longer avoid the subject of which house he’d been sorted into. He confessed to his parents in the shortest letter possible that he’d been sorted into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, but to his pleasant surprise they told him how proud of him they were all the same. Enjolras’ parents had, of course, been very pleased with him for winding up in Slytherin. 

 

Compared to students like Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, the four friends thought that they’d had a rather boring first year at Hogwarts. In later years, they would look back on it and realize it was the only time they could remember feeling  _ relaxed  _ at Hogwarts. 

 

On the train that was homeward bound, they let loose. Enjolras and Grantaire pushed their feelings of dread to the backs of their head while Combeferre and Courfeyrac chattered excitedly about all the things they were going to do with their families over the summer. 

 

“Mum wrote me and said we might be able to go to the zoo one day!” Courfeyrac exclaimed happily. “I haven’t been to the zoo since — well — I can’t remember when!”

 

“Mum and Dad said that we’re going to go on a vacation! Evelyne’s been writing me letters upon letters all about where we might be going,” Combeferre said. “My parents are considering, France, Holland, or maybe Germany.”

 

“What about you two?” Courfeyrac asked with a smile. “What are you going to do for eight weeks?”

 

“Oh,” Grantaire said. “Er — I’ll probably go the park a lot.”

 

“Um, yeah,” Enjolras said. “I usually spend my free time in the woods behind my house, or in the library.”

 

“Cool,” Courfeyrac said, even though it sounded like anything but.

 

Soon they were standing on platform nine-and-three-quarters, huddling together just as they had done when they departed the train at Hogwarts. 

 

“I guess this is where we say goodbye,” Grantaire sighed. 

 

“It’s only a couple months!” Courfeyrac reminded him. “We’ll be back together — all of us — right here, on September first.”

 

“You bet we will,” Combeferre said. 

 

“I can’t wait,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Oh, I’m going to miss you all so, so much!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. 

 

“I’ll write you all,” Enjolras told them, nodding to Deryn who was fast asleep in her cage atop Enjolras’ trunk. 

 

“I will, too,” Combeferre said. “We’ve got a family owl, I’ll send letters soon.”

 

“Good!” Grantaire said.    
  
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” said Courfeyrac. 

 

“Well, I see my mum,” Enjolras said. “I had better get going. See you all in two months!”

 

“See you!” 

 

“Bye, Enjolras!”

 

“Have a good summer!”

 

“Mine are there, too,” Combeferre said. “You two will have to go back to the Muggle platform.”

 

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. 

 

“Bye, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac sighed, hugging his friend tightly. 

 

Combeferre hugged Grantaire, nodded, and smiled. “Two months.”

 

“You ready?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“No,” Grantaire said. “I want to go back to school. Now  _ there’s  _ something I never thought I’d say.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Courfeyrac said. He smiled. “Two months.”

 

Grantaire smiled. “Two months.” He held out his hand. “Back the way we came?”

 

Courfeyrac nodded. “Back the way we came.”

 

So, hands clasped tightly together, they went back through the brick wall and found themselves between platforms nine and ten. 

 

Courfeyrac grinned when he spotted his mother and Grantaire frowned when he spotted his father. 

 

“See you in two months!” Courfeyrac said. He hugged Grantaire and waved at him over his shoulder as he ran off to greet his mother. 

 

Grantaire drew a deep breath and nodded. “Only two months,” he said quietly to himself. “I can do this. Two months.”


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is stubborn, Combeferre is worried, Enjolras is feeling guilty, and Grantaire has a really bad term.

_ Grantaire,  _

 

_ I hope you are having an excellent summer _

_ and that you’ve started early on your  _

_ summer work  _ —  _ though I’m sure you have _

_ not.  _

 

_ My parents and I have been at odds ever  _

_ since I arrived home, and it’s only been a _

_ week! I hope you’re having better luck  _

_ with your family. _

 

_ Hope to receive news that you are well. _

 

_ Best, _

_ Enjolras _

 

_ Hi, Enjolras, _

 

_ You’ve only known me for a year, and still, _

_ you already know me so well. Obviously, I _

_ haven’t started my summer work yet. I’ll _

_ start it soon though! Probably (not)! _

 

_ I’m sorry you’re not getting along with _

_ your parents. If it makes you feel any better, _

_ I’m having a horrible summer here at my _

_    house. Parents suck, all of them, wizard or  _

_ not, that’s my theory. Just remember what _

_ I said back in September, yeah? It’s who you _

_ are that matters, not which house you’re in. _

_ Same goes here. What matters is who you are, _

_ not who your parents are or even who your  _

_ parents want you to be. _

 

_ Sorry to have to deliver some not-so-good _

_ news. But I’m healthy, at least. _

 

_ Seven more weeks. _

 

_ -Grantaire _

 

***

 

_ Dear Courfeyrac, _

 

_ I’ve had a rather eventful summer _

_ holiday so far and it’s only been four _

_ weeks! My parents and I went to  _

_ Holland for a few weeks. I can’t even _

_ begin to tell you how beautiful it is _

_ there! Not as beautiful as Hogwarts, _

_ of course.  _

 

_ I miss you and Grantaire and Enjolras _

_ a lot. I love my parents, of course, and _

_ I’m so glad that they aren’t upset about  _

_ me being a Ravenclaw, and I’m having _

_ fun with my brothers and sisters, but I  _

_ don’t have any real friends at home. I’m _

_ so happy that there are only four more  _

_ weeks of summer before we go back to _

_ Hogwarts! I’m counting down! _

 

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Combeferre _

 

_ Hey, Combeferre! _

 

_ Jeez, four whole weeks! I was starting to _

_ think you forgot about me! I haven’t heard _

_ from Enjolras either. Grantaire and I gave _

_ each other our phone numbers, luckily, but I _

_ don’t get to talk to him very much still. His _

_ parents are kind of awful, did you know? He _

_ never mentioned it to me. _

 

_ I’m happy you had such a nice time in  _

_ Holland. Do you have any pictures you  _

_ could show me when we see each other _

_ again? Do wizards even have cameras? _

_ I think there are still a few too many gaps  _

_ in my knowledge of the wizarding world. _

 

_ I ran into a boy in our year the other day! _

_ He’s in Hufflepuff with me, muggleborn like _

  1. _His name’s Bossuet and I guess he lives_



_ not too far from where I live. How cool is that! _

 

_ One month! Miss you! _

 

_ All the love, _

_ Courfeyrac _

 

***

 

_ Courfeyrac,  _

 

_ I was very glad to hear in your last _

_ letter that Grantaire has been getting _

_ to the phone more to talk to you. I’m  _

_ starting to notice, too, how bad his _

_ life at home seems to be. I’m worried _

_ about him, but at least he’s getting to _

_ talk to you on the phone most days. _

_ (I still don’t understand this phone, _

_ you’re going to have to explain it to _

_ me when I see you in person.) _

 

_ Speaking of when I see you in person… _

_ two weeks! I’m so excited! _

 

_ Best, _

_ Enjolras _

 

_ Yo, Enjolras! _

 

_ Yeah, I agree. I’m worried about him. _

_ Thank god we’re going back to Hogwarts _

_ in two weeks (which, yay! I’m excited too!) _

_ because it’ll probably lift his spirits when _

_ he gets to leave his home again.  _

 

_ See you soon! _

 

_ All the love, _

_ Courfeyrac _

 

***

 

_ Dear Grantaire, _

 

_ I’m glad to hear you finally got your  _

_ summer work finished. It took you  _

_ long enough.  _

 

_ I don’t have very much to say now _

_ as the summer is drawing to a close. _

_ I’ll see you tomorrow though! _

 

_ Sincerely, _

_ Combeferre _

 

***

 

Grantaire stood on the very crowded platform nine-and-three quarters. He had his trunk at his side and his arms hugging his body as he looked around and around, desperate to spot one of his friends. He was beginning to have those stupid thoughts that insecurity puts inside your head like,  _ What if they’re not coming back this year because they just hate me that much? _

 

“ _ Grantaire! _ ” Combeferre appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and pulled him into a tight hug. “Oh my god, I missed you so much!”

 

“I missed you, too!” Grantaire grinned. 

 

“Come on, let’s get on the train,” Combeferre said. “It’ll be easier for Enjolras and Courfeyrac to find us there.” 

 

Grantaire nodded and followed Combeferre. They found themselves an empty compartment, hoisted their trunks up onto the shelves, and settled into their seats. Combeferre let Felix out of his cage and the cat curled himself into a perfect circle beside Combeferre, began to purr, and closed his eyes to sleep. 

 

“I thought the summer would never end,” Grantaire sighed. 

 

“God, me too,” Combeferre agreed. “I wonder who we’ll have for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.”

 

“Oh, right, because Professor Quirrell was crazy and evil,” Grantaire said. “Yeah, it’ll be interesting to see who they’ve found for us now.”

 

The compartment door slid open. “Knock, knock!” Courfeyrac said as he entered and Enjolras followed closely behind him. 

 

All of the friends shared hugs before lifting Courfeyrac and Enjolras’ luggage onto the shelves above the seats. Enjolras opened up Deryn’s cage and she fluttered up onto the shelf, tucked her head beneath her wing, and went to sleep. 

 

“Man, I’m glad I’m back!” Courfeyrac couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “It’s going to be so awesome, having the feast tonight without the stress of the sorting ceremony before it!”

 

“Yeah, but we won’t be able to sit with each other,” Enjolras said with a frown.

 

“Why not?” Grantaire asked. “We always sat together last year. None of the professors ever said anything about it.”

 

“Yeah, but we never did that at any of the really big feasts,” Combeferre said.    
  
“Exactly,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Whatever,” Courfeyrac said. “It’s one night. It’ll give us a chance to actually catch up with our other friends.”

 

“What other friends do  _ you  _ have?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“Excuse me?” Courfeyrac crossed his arms. 

 

“No! I didn’t mean it like that, sorry,” Combeferre sighed. “I just mean, what  _ other friends  _ do  _ any of us  _ have?”

 

“Bossuet and I started talking over the summer,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“And Bahorel and Feuilly are pretty cool,” Grantaire said. 

 

“And there’s Jehan, I’d talk to him sometimes in the common room last year,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“There’s that girl, Cosette,” Grantaire said. “She seems nice.”

 

“Well, good for you two,” Enjolras said. “But Combeferre and I haven’t got any friends in our own houses.”

 

“Maybe try making some?” Grantaire suggested cautiously. 

 

Combeferre shrugged but Enjolras snorted. “ _ Please!  _ Have you met most of the Slytherins? They’re terrible!”

 

“What about that girl who’s always with Cosette — what’s her name?” Courfeyrac looked to Grantaire. 

 

“Oh, Eponine!” Grantaire exclaimed. “Yeah, she’s awesome!” 

 

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen her around,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Well, obviously,” Grantaire said and he rolled his eyes. “You live in the same common room as her and she’s in  _ all  _ of your classes.”

 

“Shut up,” Enjolras huffed. 

 

They turned their conversation to more pleasant matters then, such as Courfeyrac’s abilities with a broomstick. “Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“I don’t know if I’m good enough for all that yet,” Courfeyrac said.

 

“Well, you won’t know unless you try,” Grantaire said. 

 

“I don’t even know if there’s an open spot on the team,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Well, you can find out tonight,” Enjolras said. “Just check to see if there’s a signup sheet on the bulletin board in your common room. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

 

“ _ Never, _ ” Courfeyrac snapped, eyes wide, “ask that question.”

 

“He’s got a good point,” Grantaire said. “But Courfeyrac, do you want to be on the Quidditch team?”

 

“Yeah, I do, but —”

 

“Then you’ve got to try!” Grantaire said. “The worst that could happen is that you don’t make the team. It’s only our second year, you’ve got five more chances to get onto the team if this one doesn’t work out.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Courfeyrac sighed. 

 

“I think it’s going to be a really good year at Hogwarts,” Grantaire said with a smile. 

 

“Don’t jinx it,” Courfeyrac grumbled. 

 

***

 

Second year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had Herbology together first thing the next morning, just as they had at the beginning of their first year. Courfeyrac and Grantaire found a spot where the could work side by side.

 

“We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today,” Professor Sprout announced to her class. “Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

  
Hermione Granger’s hand shot up into the air and she began rambling on and on about the Mandrakes, so Grantaire took the chance to lean in toward Courfeyrac and whisper, “Are there going to be tryouts for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team?” 

 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac sighed. 

 

“And?” Grantaire grinned. 

 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes dramatically. “I signed up.”

 

“Good,” Grantaire said. “When are they?”

 

“Friday afternoon.”

 

“Awesome. Enjolras, Combeferre, and I will come watch from the stands.”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Courfeyrac said. “You honestly shouldn’t even bother coming to watch me. I’m not going to make the team, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. It’s just going to be a waste of an afternoon.”

 

“Well, you’re definitely not going to make it with an attitude like that,” Grantaire said. 

 

“You’re annoying.”

 

“But oh, so supportive.”

 

After Herbology they were headed back up the lawn toward the castle. “What do you have next?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“History of Magic, you?”

 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

 

“Ooh!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. “You’ll have to tell me and Combeferre all about the new professor!”

 

“Oh, I’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts with Slytherins?”

 

“Must be, because I’m in History of Magic with Ravenclaw.” Courfeyrac shrugged. “See you later!”

 

“Bye!” 

 

Grantaire met Enjolras outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Why?” Grantaire frowned.    
  
“Harry Potter just went by with the new professor,” Enjolras said. “You should’ve seen his face. I thought his head might explode.”

 

“Well, it can’t be worse than Quirrell, can it?” Grantaire asked. “I mean, Quirrell was working for You-Know-Who! Nothing is worse than that.”

 

Enjolras nodded, but he avoided Grantaire’s eye. “Come on, let’s go in now so we don’t have to sit at the front.”

 

“What? But you  _ always  _ sit at the front!”

 

“I don’t like the look of this guy. Come on.”

 

Sure enough, Enjolras was right. Professor Lockhart’s sheer gaul was  _ infuriating.  _ The first word out of his mouth when addressing his class was, “Me.” In under a minute it was made absolutely clear that he was a conceited asshole. 

 

This was made even clearer when they were given thirty minutes to take a quiz all about  _ him.  _ When Enjolras looked down and read the first question on the quiz laid out in front of him ( _ What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color? _ ), he looked up at Grantaire to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. Grantaire was giving him the same look. 

 

As Lockhart scolded them for not reading his books carefully enough (Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged glances that clearly said neither of them had opened his books yet), Harry Potter could be seen stacking books in front of himself. Ron Weasley was staring at Lockhart in disbelief. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Bahorel, and Feuilly were all doing their very best to keep their fits of giggles silent. 

 

They all thought that,  _ surely,  _ that was as bizarre as the class could possibly get. But, unfortunate as it was for them, Lockhart thought it would be an excellent idea to release Cornish pixies on them. 

 

The pixies went on a rampage. They spilt ink bottles, broke windows, ripped papers. Two of them lifted Neville Longbottom off of his seat by his ears. Another sunk its sharp little teeth into Enjolras’ arm.

 

“ARGH!” Enjolras wailed. 

 

Grantaire’s eyes went wide and reached out, grabbed onto the pixie by its waist, and yanked hard. The pixie clamped down on Enjolras’ arm as hard as it could and, though Grantaire was stronger, it took a good chunk out of Enjolras’ arm. 

 

“Come on,” Grantaire said and he squeezed his hand around to the wound to keep it from bleeding. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing.” 

 

They raced out of the classroom, past Lockhart who was hiding beneath his desk and Hermione who was pointing her wand into the air. They made their way down corridor after corridor and down rotating staircases to find their way to the hospital wing. 

 

Madam Pomfrey soon had Grantaire’s hand cleaned of blood and Enjolras’ bleeding wound mended. 

 

“We’d better get to lunch,” Enjolras said. “Word will have spread by now, about Lockhart’s class. If we don’t tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac about it as soon as possible they’ll both have a cow.”

 

Grantaire laughed. “Alright, come on then.”

 

***

 

Courfeyrac was walking out onto the Quidditch field on Friday afternoon, dressed in yellow Quidditch robes which were borrowed from the school. He was walking with a boy who was in his year, and though they’d been sleeping in the same room for a year, he’d never actually had a conversation with him. 

 

“My parents were so pleased when I got into Hufflepuff,” Jehan told Courfeyrac. “Almost everyone in my family’s been in Hufflepuff for generations. My brother, though, was actually in Slytherin, which… well, you know Slytherin.”

 

“One of my best friends is in Slytherin,” Courfeyrac said defensively. 

 

“Yes, yes, there’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with it,” Jehan amended quickly. “It’s just that the house has a reputation and my brother is… well, he’s  _ odd. _ That’s all. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I know your friend — Enjolras, right? Yeah, I’ve met him in the library and he’s really great. I don’t have any problem with Slytherins, I just have a problem with my brother.”

 

“Oh, okay, that makes sense,” Courfeyrac said and he nodded. “Sorry that I jumped down your throat. I understand family troubles.”

 

“Hey, isn’t that Enjolras in the stands?” Jehan pointed to the top of the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. Sure enough, there was Enjolras, with Combeferre and Grantaire on either side of him.    
  
“Ugh, those jerks,” Courfeyrac huffed. “I told them not to come.”

 

“Well, I think it’s sweet,” Jehan laughed. 

 

“Hmm,” Courfeyrac hummed. “Come on. Tryouts await.”

 

***

 

“ _ Stop  _ —  _ badgering  _ —  _ me! _ ” Courfeyrac snapped at his friends late in the afternoon the next day. They were being absolutely overbearing, smothering him in compliments. 

 

“We’re not badgering!” Grantaire said.   
  


“We’re encouraging!” insisted Enjolras.

 

“Exactly! We’re just telling you what a great job you did!” Combeferre patted him on the back.

 

“You’re totally going to get on the team!” Enjolras grinned.

 

“And we’ll be at all of your games, of course,” said Combeferre, looking for Grantaire and Enjolras to agree.

 

“Of course we will!” Grantaire nodded. “Combeferre, Enjolras, you’re going to have to teach me all about how Quidditch works.”

 

“We’ll find you a book from the library and go through it with you,” Enjolras told him. 

 

“Don’t bother learning about Quidditch, Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said and he rolled his eyes. “There’s no need.”

 

“There  _ is  _ a need because  _ you  _ are  _ making it  _ —”

 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut  _ up! _ ” Courfeyrac screamed. He stormed away from his friends, arm crossed.

 

Combeferre made to follow him but Enjolras grabbed his arm. “Give him some space for a little bit,” he said. “He’s obviously really upset.”

 

“I just don’t get it,” Combeferre sighed. “He’s  _ so good.  _ He’s definitely going to make the team.”

 

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Enjolras said. “If this is how he’s feeling when he thinks he won’t get on the team, imagine what he’ll be like if he actually doesn’t make the team.”

 

Grantaire frowned. “It’ll be bad.”

 

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “Well, we could go to the library if you want. Get the book? Start going through it?” 

 

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “Combeferre, are you coming?” 

 

“No, I think I need a walk,” Combeferre sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

 

“Okay, see you then,” Enjolras said. “Come on, Grantaire.”

 

Enjolras and Grantaire headed off to the library and Combeferre headed down to the entrance hall, out onto the lawn, and toward the owlery. Combeferre climbed the spiral staircase up the tower that the owlery was at the top of. He reached the top of the staircase, entered the owlery, and jumped in surprise when he found that he wasn’t alone in there.

 

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said. “What’re you doing here?”

 

“I started coming here to think around exams last year,” Combeferre told him. “There aren’t usually people up here. It’s a good place to be alone. What about you? What are you doing here?”

 

“I actually started coming up here to think right after Christmas,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Huh,” Combeferre said with a small smile. “Well how about that? I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other up here.”

 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said. “Maybe we will now.” He shrugged then turned back to the window, crossed his arms on the ledge, and sighed. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre asked. He joined Courfeyrac at the window and joined his friend. 

 

“I don’t know…” Courfeyrac sighed again, but it was clear that he did know. “It’s just, like, I know that I won’t make the Quidditch team. And I know that I’m only in second year, that I have time. I know I shouldn’t care… but I do. I care a lot. I really, really, really want to be on the team, like, I didn’t even realize how much I wanted to be on the team until after I tried out.”

 

“Honestly, Courfeyrac, I know we were being a bit obnoxious and I know that we can’t be  _ sure  _ you’ll make the team,” Combeferre said, “but I really do think you will. You’re  _ really  _ good.”

 

“I’m not all that good.” Courfeyrac blushed. 

 

“You really are,” Combeferre said. “How about this — let’s not think about it. Let’s go find Enjolras and Grantaire, we’ll make them stop reading their Quidditch book, and we can all spend the rest of the afternoon together and not talk about it. We’ll have dinner and not think about it.”

 

Courfeyrac smiled. “That sounds nice.” He pulled Combeferre into a tight hug. “Thanks, Combeferre. You always know what I need.” 

 

“I try my best,” Combeferre said, matching Courfeyrac’s smile. “Come on, then. Let’s find our boys.” 

 

Enjolras, Grantaire, and Combeferre had done a splendid job of distracting Courfeyrac once they’d all agreed to shut up about freaking Quidditch. They’d gone outside and skipped rocks on the lake until dark and the giant squid had even snatched some of their rocks right out of the air. They sat together at dinner, as per usual, but they sat at the Gryffindor table so that they would not be able to hear anyone talking about the Hufflepuff Quidditch tryouts. After dinner, they all went back to the Gryffindor common room with Grantaire and, though some people had given Enjolras some nasty looks when his Slytherin robes were spotted, they had a good time. A huge group of people got together with Dean Thomas’ decks of Muggle playing cards and he, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Bahorel, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter taught Combeferre, Enjolras,  and Ron Weasley how to play 12-step rummy. 

 

Courfeyrac entered the Hufflepuff common room not long before curfew that evening. 

 

“Courfeyrac!” Jehan ran up to him and grabbed onto his arm. “C’mere!”

 

“Wha— Jehan!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, tripping over his own feet.

 

Jehan kept on dragging him anyway. “ _ Look! _ ” he shouted, pointing a finger at the bulletin board. 

 

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow, took a quick look over the bulletin board, and his eyes immediately found the list —  _ QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS _ — with seven names posted beneath the header, five of which belonged to the people who had already been on the Hufflepuff team, and the other two belonging to none other than Jehan and  _ Courfeyrac!  _

 

“We did it,” Courfeyrac murmured, then spun around and looked to Jehan with wide eyes. “We did it! We  _ did  _ it! WE MADE IT!”

 

“We’re on the team, we’re on the team!” Jehan sang. 

 

“Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell them,” Courfeyrac said with grin. And he really could hardly wait at all — he didn’t sleep at all that night and when he ran down to breakfast in the morning, easily spotting Combeferre at the Ravenclaw table with Enjolras, he raced over to them shouting all the way, “I MADE THE TEAM! I MADE THE TEAM! I’M ON THE QUIDDITCH TEAM!”

 

“ _ What?! _ ” Combeferre leapt up, grinning. 

 

“I knew it!” Enjolras exclaimed.

 

Combeferre yanked him into a tight hug, squeezed him hard and wouldn’t let him go. “I knew you could do it, I believed in you all along! I’m so proud of you!”

 

“What’s going on over here?” Grantaire snorted when he joined them at the breakfast table a moment later. 

 

“Courfeyrac got onto the team!” Enjolras told him loudly. 

 

“Oh my god, yes! Congratulations, Courf!” Grantaire pulled Courfeyrac out of Combeferre’s arms so that he could get a hug in for himself. “Now I really do need to learn all about Quidditch. Enjolras, we’re going to the library  _ right  _ after breakfast!”

 

Enjolras chuckled, “Never thought I’d hear  _ you  _ telling  _ me  _ we’ve got to go to the library.”

 

***

 

Courfeyrac and Jehan were both made Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and neither of them realized how much work they’d have to put into train for the upcoming Quidditch season, but neither of them realized quite how much fun they’d have with their teammates either. They fell in love with Quidditch. 

 

Enjolras was thriving in all of his classes, but he was finding that the one he loved most was Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall kept him after class had finished one day and told him that he was one of just two students who were below N.E.W.T. level that could ever impress her. “And,” she said before she let him go, “I love seeing how well you, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire get along. I do think we take these house rivalries too far sometimes.”

 

Combeferre started writing back and forth to his younger sister, Marabella, late in September as she was beginning to panic about going to Hogwarts the following year. She would mention Hogwarts houses a lot and he told her not to worry, and he reminded her that all of their family was in Gryffindor but when he was sorted into Ravenclaw their parents had been proud nonetheless. She was being ridiculous, but all the same, Combeferre missed her and was glad that she’d be there with him at Hogwarts in another year. 

 

Grantaire was being scolded for doodling on his homework. Professor Snape was less than pleased when he found an intricate cartoon of a young wizard who looked a hell of a lot like Courfeyrac pouring ingredients into a cauldron, only to have the contents explode in his face. But what Grantaire was coming to realize was that he  _ loved  _ to draw, but it was very hard to do with a quill and ink on parchment. He found himself longing for a pencil and a plain old notebook. 

 

Halloween was soon upon them and a grand feast was thrown. At first, everyone thought that, surely, it must go smoother than the Halloween feast from the year previous had. After all, a  _ troll  _ had been let loose the year before. 

 

The feast. The rich and delectable feast. It really wasn’t so enjoyable for Enjolras, Grantaire, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac since a big school feast meant that they had to sit at their own tables. Grantaire and Courfeyrac both had good friends in their own houses now, but Enjolras and Combeferre were still struggling to do so.

 

All of the students poured into the corridors after the feast had finished. Enjolras, Combeferre, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac grouped together while they could before they had to split up to go to their respective common rooms. 

 

As all of the students were pouring into one corridor, suddenly the entire group of them came to a halt and grew silent almost instantly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were stood in the middle of the corridor, there was a cat dangling from the wall, and written on the wall in red;

 

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

 

“ _ ‘Enemies of the heir’ _ ?” Courfeyrac read aloud at a whisper, eyes wide. 

 

“What’s the Chamber of Secrets?” Grantaire asked Combeferre softly. 

 

“It’s bad,” Combeferre said. “It’s really, really bad.”

 

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” Someone amongst the crowd shouted then. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

 

Courfeyrac leaned in close to Grantaire and spoke softly so that only he could hear him. “What’s a Mudblood?” he asked, but Grantaire shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He had no idea. 

 

Enjolras turned to one side to look at the pale, blond, Slytherin boy who had shouted. “Shut  _ up,  _ Malfoy!” he said, eyes narrowed. “No one wants to hear your voice!” 

 

“No one asked for your opinion, you filthy blood traitor!” Draco Malfoy snapped back at Enjolras. 

 

Combeferre opened his mouth to argue but Argus Filch, the caretaker at Hogwarts, chose that moment to come busting through the crowd asking, “What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

 

“Isn’t that his cat hanging from the wall?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

Before anyone had the chance to answer, Filch began screeching, “My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?  _ You!  _ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her!”

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Combeferre whispered to his friends. 

 

“Yeah, while we still can,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

The four of them backed away quickly through the crowd, ran back toward the entrance hall. 

 

“I thought the Chamber of Secrets was just a myth,” Enjolras said. 

 

“It  _ is. _ ” Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Enjolras.”

 

“What is it?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“It’s not real,” Combeferre snapped. 

 

Enjolras frowned. “There’s this legend that says that Salazar Slytherin built a secret chamber in the Hogwarts castle that housed a terrible monster, and that only the true Heir of Slytherin can open the chamber and set the monster loose on the castle. Supposedly, it’s been opened before. Fifty years ago.”

 

“ _ Shit, _ ” Grantaire said. “And now it’s open again?” 

 

“No, it’s not open,” Combeferre huffed. “It never was open. It’ll never be open. There’s no Chamber of Secrets.”

 

“But — but if there was,” Courfeyrac said and he swallowed hard. “Just, hypothetically, say that it was real… What would the monster be used for if it was set loose on the school?”

 

Combeferre shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t worry about it, Courf.”

 

“What’s that thing that Malfoy said?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“Mudblood,” Courfeyrac supplied. 

 

Combeferre and Enjolras frowned at Courfeyrac. 

 

“Yeah, that,” Grantaire said. “What does Mudblood mean?”

 

Combeferre glared at nothing in particular. “It’s a really nasty thing to call someone who’s muggleborn.”

 

“ _ Dirty  _ blood, they say,” Enjolras hissed. “It’s disgusting, they’re all disgusting. They think they’re better than everyone else just because of who their parents are, and grandparents, and so on. I hate it. I hate it all.”

 

“But — but Malfoy said it because the Chamber of Secrets is open —” Grantaire said. 

 

“There is no Chamber of Secrets!” Combeferre interrupted. 

 

“But  _ if there is! _ ” Grantaire yelled. “If there is then — well, there are a hell of a lot of Slytherins who’d love to see all the muggleborns wiped out of this school, aren’t there? And Salazar Slytherin thought that Hogwarts should only be more purebloods, didn’t he?  _ Didn’t he? _ ”

 

“Yes, he did, but Grantaire —” Enjolras began. 

 

“So if there is a monster in some secret chamber in this castle and someone  _ does  _ have a key then they’re probably going to set it loose to kill  _ muggleborns! _ ” Grantaire said, eyes wide, hands trembling. 

 

“Malfoy could be right,” Courfeyrac said shakily. “What if — what if he’s right? What if we’re next?”

 

“You can’t be next because there’s no monster,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Then what killed Mrs. Norris?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“I don’t know, probably some fifth year jerks.” Combeferre shrugged. “Just forget the whole thing even happened, okay? It’s not real. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Goodnight.” With that, he turned and marched away toward the Ravenclaw common room.

 

Enjolras sighed. “He’s right. It’s just a legend. Nothing to worry about.”

 

“How can you be sure?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“There’s no proof that there’s a monster,” Enjolras said.

 

“Is there any proof that there isn’t one?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“Well, no, but —” Enjolras began and he sighed again, unsure of how he was supposed to make his friends feel at ease.

 

“Why did people think it was opened the last time?” Grantaire asked.    
  
“Well — well, a girl  _ died, _ ” Enjolras admitted.    
  
“SOMEONE  _ DIED?! _ ” Courfeyrac yelled. 

 

“Was she muggleborn?” Grantaire asked in a small voice. 

 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire for a long time, then frowned, nodded his head once. “Yes, Grantaire. She was a muggleborn. But you have nothing to worry about, okay? It’s only a legend.”

 

Courfeyrac was rambling on about how the monster could very well be real, how it could come for him and Grantaire and all the other countless muggleborns at Hogwarts while they slept, but Grantaire looked back at Enjolras, looked into his eyes, and finally he nodded once. “Okay. If you say it’s only a legend, then it’s only a legend. I trust you.”

 

“Good.” Enjolras smiled. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?” He turned and headed toward the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. 

 

“You don’t really believe him, do you?” Courfeyrac asked. “He can’t know. He can’t be  _ sure. _ ”

 

“I don’t know, Courf,” Grantaire sighed and he shrugged his shoulders. “It probably  _ was  _ just a bunch of awful fifth years. Anyways, Mrs. Norris is just a cat, she can’t be a muggleborn witch. What could we really have to worry about?”

 

***

 

Apparently, they could have  _ a lot _ to worry about. 

 

The first Quidditch match of the season was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin and Courfeyrac was eager to go watch and see what a real live Quidditch match would be like. Grantaire, Enjolras, and Combeferre, being the supportive friends that they were, agreed to go along with him.

 

In an exciting but frightening turn of events, Harry Potter  _ fell off of his broom  _ and broke his arm. Lockhart — the complete idiot — decided that he was best suited to try and mend Harry’s arm instead of sending him to Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Enjolras, and Combeferre weren’t very close to him when they gathered with the rest of the students in a herd on the Quidditch field, but they heard something about his bones disappearing altogether. 

 

It was a tad unsettling for Courfeyrac as his very first Quidditch match (against Ravenclaw) was to take place the following week. His friends did what they could to keep him calm but nothing they said to him seemed to do any good. 

 

As if matters weren’t bad enough, what with Courfeyrac now panicking about Quidditch, when they woke the following morning it was to a room full of students eating breakfast and gossiping about how Colin Creevey, a first year at Hogwarts, had been attacked and was now lying, Petrified, in the infirmary. 

 

“He’s in my house,” Grantaire said quietly. “I haven’t even spoken to him but — but I’ve seen him in the common room. I’ve heard him talking to his friends.”

 

“It’s terrible,” Combeferre said with a frown. 

 

“He’s muggleborn,” Grantaire said. 

 

Courfeyrac’s eyes grew wide. “It’s the — do you think? Could it be? The Chamber of Secrets! The monster! It’s real!”   
  


“Shut  _ up,  _ Courfeyrac, do you want to start a riot?” Enjolras huffed. 

 

“It’s just a coincidence.” Combeferre was shaking his head. “I won’t believe it’s real,  _ I won’t.  _ It’s only a legend.”

 

But later that day, Harry Potter was released from the hospital wing and the news that he delivered to his fellow Gryffindors that night in the common quickly spread about the school: Dumbledore himself had gone to the hospital wing in the night, after Creevey was found, and he said to Professor McGonagall that “the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again”.

 

“See Combeferre?” Courfeyrac said with arms crossed and eyebrows raised. They were gathered, the four of them, together in a corner of the library discussing the gossip that had spread like wildfire throughout the castle.    
  
“He — I mean — he could have —”

  
“Let it go,” Grantaire huffed. “It’s real. Obviously. You can’t deny it anymore.”

 

“This is bad,” Enjolras groaned. “This is really, really bad. I never imagined it could be real.”

 

Combeferre frowned and he shook his head slowly. “We’ve got to do something.”   
  
“Like what?” Courfeyrac snapped. “Go hunt the monster?”   
  


“Maybe we should,” Grantaire said.    
  
“ _ No! _ ” Combeferre huffed. “I mean, we’ve got to make sure you two are okay. Grantaire, you’ve got to go home for Christmas holiday.”

 

“I won’t, of course,” Grantaire said stubbornly. 

 

“I’ll stay with him,” Enjolras offered.    
  
“It’s not enough!” Combeferre shouted. “Don’t you see how bad this is?”

 

“Yes, we do!” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “ _ You’re  _ the one who’s refused to believe the Chamber even exists for weeks!”

 

Combeferre continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all. “The last time this happened a girl  _ died.  _ Salazar Slytherin wanted all the muggleborns out of this school, and now someone else does too. Grantaire, Courfeyrac, you’re in danger!”

 

Madame Pince poked her head around a bookshelf, shushed them all sternly, then stalked away. 

 

“Crazy old bat,” Grantaire snorted.    
  
“Grantaire,” Enjolras huffed. “We’re talking about how to keep you safe. Be serious.”

 

“I won’t,” Grantaire said. “And I won’t go home.” He snapped his book about the rules of Quidditch shut and got to his feet. “And that’s that.” He got up and stomped off.    
  
“I can’t believe you told  _ Grantaire,  _ of all people, to be serious.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “You might as well ask Professor Snape if he’d like a hug.”

 

“Shut up, Courfeyrac, no one asked you.”

 

***

 

Christmas came and went and Grantaire, stubborn as always, refused to go home. He stuck it out, and Enjolras stayed at Hogwarts with Grantaire as promised and sent daily assurances to both Combeferre and Courfeyrac that Grantaire was alive and well. 

 

The attacks were still going on, though. More and more muggleborns were being Petrified. No one had died, thank goodness, but who could know what the future would hold? 

 

“See? I’m fine,” Grantaire said when Courfeyrac and Combeferre returned from holiday, but that didn’t stop Courfeyrac from pulling Grantaire into a tight hug. “Courfeyrac, I’m  _ fine.  _ Everything is fine.”

 

“No, Grantaire,  _ no, _ ” Courfeyrac huffed. “Everything's  _ not _ fine! More and more people are winding up in the hospital wing everyday! You should’ve gone home from holiday break, Grantaire, you  _ should have!  _ I couldn’t breathe the whole time I was away because I knew you weren’t safe!”

 

“Hey, sshhh,” Grantaire said comfortingly. “Enjolras was here all the while — my bodyguard.”

 

“Enjolras sleeps in a common room in the dungeons and you sleep in a common room up a tower,” Combeferre huffed, arms folded over his chest. “You could have been killed in your sleep.”

 

“No one’s been killed.” Grantaire rolled his eyes. 

 

“ _ Yet, _ ” Combeferre snapped. Without another word, he turned and stormed off to the Ravenclaw tower. 

 

“You should have gone home for Christmas,” Courfeyrac said, and he turned and chased after Combeferre.

 

Grantaire sighed. “Now two people are mad at me.”

 

“They just care about you a lot,” Enjolras said. “They don’t understand.”

  
“What about you?” Grantaire asked. 

  
“I care about you, of course,” Enjolras said. “I would have liked to see you safe while you could be, just like Courfeyrac and Combeferre would have. But I get it. I get dreading coming face to face with your parents more than you dread coming face to face with a child eating monster.”   
  


“Yeah, that just about sums up my life at home,” Grantaire laughed. 

 

“Yeah, same here,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

Now, these are four pre-teen boys so, as you can probably imagine, they were very immature and got upset over insignificant things. However, they also weren’t skilled in holding grudges so it was only a few days before their friendship was repaired. 

 

One day at breakfast, papers were passed around with a list of all new classes. 

 

“We have to take  _ more  _ classes?” Courfeyrac asked, exasperated.

 

“Starting next year, yes,” Enjolras said. 

 

“But look at how much fun these all look!” Combeferre grinned. “I mean, Arithmancy? The Study of Ancient Runes? Muggle Studies? It’s all so cool!”

 

“Agh —  _ Muggle Studies, _ ” Courfeyrac said.

 

“Well, yes, obviously that wouldn’t be very interesting to you or Grantaire,” Combeferre sighed and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “But  _ I’m  _ going to take it. Will you take it with me, Enjolras?”

 

“Oh, um,” Enjolras said. “I — I guess I could… Yeah, why not?” He marked Muggle Studies down on his list of classes. 

  
“You don’t sound very excited about it,” Grantaire told Enjolras. 

 

“Oh, Grantaire, you know how I feel about Muggle rights and muggleborn rights,” Enjolras sighed. He frowned deeply at his friend. “I want everything to be equal so much —”

 

“No, I know that,” Grantaire said quickly. “I wasn’t implying anything. I wouldn’t do it if I were you, Muggles are boring. Not so boring that they shouldn’t have equal rights, but boring all the same.”

 

“No, I want to take it. I don’t know very much about how Muggles live their lives and I’d like to,” Enjolras said then added in a small voice, “I just can’t let my parents find out about it.”

 

“Right, well, I’m going to take Muggle Studies and Runes and Arithmancy, I think,” Combeferre decided.    
  
“I’ll take Muggle Studies, I’ll do it,” Enjolras said. “But I don’t know what else to take. Nothing else looks very interesting.”   
  


“Divination?” Grantaire asked. 

 

“My parents say that’s all a sham,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Well, maybe they’re wrong,” Grantaire said. “It’s all seeing the future, isn’t it? Seems pretty cool to me.”

 

“Seems fake,” Combeferre said stubbornly. 

 

“Yeah, kind of like our yardsticks that can make things float when we say funny words,” Grantaire said, eyebrows raised. “That seems fake too.”

 

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Well you weren’t raised around all of this.”

 

“Precisely,” Grantaire said. “I wasn’t raised around all of this, but I’m still here. I’ve adjusted. I live my life in this world. So why can’t you accept the fact that maybe —  _ just maybe  _ — seeing the future is possible, hm?”

 

Before Combeferre could answer, Courfeyrac squealed, “CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES?! UM — YES!”

 

“Well, that sounds easy enough,” Enjolras sighed and he marked it down on the list of classes before him. 

 

Combeferre wrinkled his nose. “I’m not the outdoorsy type.”

 

“I’ll take it too,” Grantaire said. 

 

“You’re all going to take a class without me?” Combeferre pouted. 

 

“Solution — you take the class,” Courfeyrac said.    
  
Grantaire snorted. 

 

“Fair enough,” Combeferre shrugged and he put a checkmark beside it on his list. 

 

“Wait, you’re really going to take it just to be with us?” Courfeyrac laughed. “I thought you weren’t the  _ outdoorsy type. _ ”

 

“I’ll survive,” Combeferre said with a shrug. “Electives are the only classes that all the houses take together. We’ve got the chance to take one class all together, we should jump on it.”

 

“You’re going to take  _ four electives? _ ” Grantaire asked. “On top of all the classes we already have to take?”

 

Combeferre shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I’m not dropping any of my other electives. They’re all so cool.”

 

“Hey, Courfeyrac, when’s your next Quidditch match?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Saturday,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Against my house, I hear,” Grantaire chuckled. “No worries, I’m rooting for you.”   
  
“You know Gryffindor gets  _ house points  _ toward the  _ House Cup  _ if they win the Quidditch game, right?” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Yeah, I know, but I care more about you than the House Cup,” he said, then added with a smirk, “And anyway, Gryffindor is way ahead in the House Cup.”

 

Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac all rolled their eyes. 

 

***

 

“Grantaire, where are you going?” Enjolras asked when he saw his friend rushing past him in the corridor. “Breakfast! Quidditch game! Come on!”

 

“I still don’t  _ quite _ understand Quidditch!” Grantaire huffed. 

 

“Grantaire! You said you did!” 

 

“I lied!” Grantaire said. “I’m going to the library, you go to breakfast!”

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Enjolras asked.

 

“No, no, I’m almost there. I  _ almost  _ got it!” Grantaire shook his head. “Go enjoy breakfast, I’ll catch up with you and Combeferre at the Quidditch game!”   
  
“Well, alright,” Enjolras said. So he went on ahead to the Great Hall and found Combeferre sat at the Hufflepuff table with his arm around Courfeyrac. “Hey, everything okay here?”

 

Jehan was sat across from Courfeyrac. “He feels like he’s going to throw up.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t play,” Combeferre said. 

 

“That’s not an option,” Courfeyrac said quickly and he shook his head. He realized immediately that that was a bad idea because he stopped moving his head and his face turned a sickly shade of green. “I can’t let the team down.”

 

“Well, in that case we need to get going,” Jehan said. “It’s almost time for the game.”

 

Courfeyrac gave a minute nod.

 

He leaned on Jehan all the way to the Quidditch pitch. He was so sure that he was going to be sick but at the same time so determined to pull through for the sake of the team. 

 

“Courfeyrac, you really are looking  _ terrible, _ ” Jehan said. “Maybe you should talk to Cedric and see —”

 

“NO!” Courfeyrac snapped. “I — am — playing!”

 

But Cedric Diggory barely had his hands on Courfeyrac’s shoulders and he hadn’t even begun his speech about self preservation when Professor Sprout walked up to the seven team members to tell them that the match had been cancelled. 

 

“What?!”   
  
“ _ Why?! _ ”

 

“You can’t cancel Quidditch!”   
  


“Go back to your dormitory immediately,” Professor Sprout ordered in lieu of an explanation. “Oh, except for you, dearie,” she said and pulled Courfeyrac aside with a sorry look. “Come with me. Professor McGonagall told me to bring you right to her.”

 

“What? But, Professor, why?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“It’s all going to be alright, just come with me,” Professor Sprout said. She put an arm around his shoulder and guided him out onto the Quidditch pitch where Professor McGonagall had Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Combeferre gathered around her. 

 

“Professor,” Ron said, “I don’t understand. What do you need the four of us for?”

 

“You’ll see,” Professor McGonagall said as she led them toward the castle.

 

All four of them noted that her voice was softer, warmer, than usual. It didn’t have its natural edge to it. 

 

She brought them straight to the hospital wing. “Now,” she said before she opened the doors, “this will probably come as a terrible shock to all of you… There has been another attack.”

 

Before Combeferre and Courfeyrac could register what was happening, they heard Ron and Harry murmur, “ _ Hermione, _ ” and saw them rushing to their friend’s side. In that moment, they knew. They knew what they were about to see before their eyes met Grantaire’s face, frozen in fear. 

 

Courfeyrac bolted to the nearest rubbish bin and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. Combeferre stood, frozen in place. He didn’t move to help Courfeyrac up off the ground and he didn’t move to Grantaire’s bedside where Enjolras was sobbing over his body. 

 

Harry and Ron were shaking violently, sitting at Hermione’s side. 

 

Madam Pomfrey lifted Courfeyrac off the floor and offered him a potion for the nausea. She pulled up a chair at Grantaire’s side and Courfeyrac sank slowly into it.

 

Professor McGonagall put an arm around Combeferre’s shoulders and gently led him from the spot where he still stood. He sat down beside Courfeyrac. 

 

“Enjolras, what — what — how —” Courfeyrac stammered. 

 

Enjolras sniffed. “I went to the library after breakfast to — to find Grantaire and tell him it was time for the game. First I saw Penelope Clearwater lying on the ground, Petrified.”

 

“Penelope Clearwater,” Combeferre murmured. “She’s in my house. She’s — she’s a prefect.”

 

Enjolras nodded. “Then I found Hermione Granger.”

 

They all glanced over to the bed a little down the way where Hermione laid, unmoving, with her arm stuck into the air. 

 

“And then,” Enjolras sniffed, “and then I found Grantaire. They — they all had mirrors in their hands. I don’t know why but — but they all had  _ mirrors. _ ” 

 

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said and he reached over to touch his friend’s arm. “It’s going to be okay. Professor Sprout will have the remedy finished soon. Grantaire will wake up!” 

 

“We,” Enjolras said slowly, took a deep breath, “need to be so careful of Courfeyrac.” He looked up at Courfeyrac. “We need to keep you safe.”

 

“I’ll be okay, Enjolras, you don’t need to worry about me,” Courfeyrac said and he shook his head. 

 

“Clearly we  _ do  _ need to worry about you!” Enjolras shouted and he was shushed by Madam Pomfrey. “Courf, do you see what’s going on at all? Do you see what’s  _ happening? _ ” 

 

“Yes, Enjolras, I do. Thanks.” Courfeyrac crossed his arms with an exasperated huff. “I have eyes, you know.” 

 

“You’re in danger,” Enjolras hissed. 

 

“We’re  _ all  _ in danger,” Courfeyrac retorted. 

 

“No, Courf, we’re not,” Enjolras said. “Because obviously this is some racist dingus who wants to wipe all of the muggleborns out of this school. Combeferre and I are safe, but you —”

 

“Malfoy!” Courfeyrac said suddenly.

 

“What?” Combeferre asked with a frown. 

 

“Draco Malfoy!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. “What if he’s the Heir of Slytherin?”

 

“We already looked into it.”

 

Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras all looked over to Harry Potter. “Come again?” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“We snuck into the Slytherin common room,” Ron sighed. 

 

“It’s a really long story,” Harry said. “But Malfoy isn’t the Heir of Slytherin. Trust us.”

 

“Then who is?” Enjolras said. 

 

Harry shook his head and sighed. “Dunno. Still trying to figure it out.”

 

***

 

“Thought I’d find you up here,” Combeferre said. 

 

Courfeyrac was curled up beneath the owlery window. He looked up. “Hi, Ferre,” he sighed. “Sorry I just disappeared… I really needed to think about some stuff.”

 

“I know. I get it,” Combeferre said. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Courfeyrac sighed again. 

 

“No, you’re not,” Combeferre said. “That’s just something people say, that they want to make sure you’re okay. I  _ know  _ you’re not. None of us are — you, me, Enjolras. It’s only been two days since Grantaire was Petrified. We’re all still mourning.”

 

“But he’s  _ alive, _ ” Courfeyrac said. “You’re supposed to mourn when people die. Grantaire is not dead. We’re lucky.”

 

“It’s still scary.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Combeferre said. “Just wanted to check up on you.”   
  
“Combeferre, wait!”   
  
“Yeah?” Combeferre turned back to him.

 

“Stay with me?” Courfeyrac requested. 

 

Combeferre tilted his head for a moment, then nodded and crossed the room. He sunk to the floor to sit next to Courfeyrac with his nose wrinkled. “You know, this probably isn’t the most sanitary —”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes but he laughed too, so Combeferre laughed. He grew quiet then and Combeferre remained silent as well, respecting his friends need to be with his thoughts. Eventually, though, Courfeyrac spoke again: “My mother wrote to me. I got her letter this morning.”

 

“Oh?” Combeferre said. “That’s good, isn’t it? You adore your mum… You sound sad.”

 

“Well, you know, every since the triple attack on Grantaire, Hermione, and Penelope…” Courfeyrac sighed. “It’s only been a few days, I know, but so many muggleborns kids have been brought back home. My mum wants me to come home. She doesn’t even really know what’s going on, but she knows it’s dangerous here right now. Dumbledore sent letters out to all the parents.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“That’s all you have to say?  _ Oh? _ ” 

 

“Well, Courf, she’s got a point,” Combeferre said. 

 

“What are you saying?” Courfeyrac crossed his arms. 

 

“You know that you’re one of my best friends and I want to have you around,” Combeferre said, “but also, well, you’re  _ one of my best friends  _ and I don’t want to see you get hurt. I think you should go home.”

 

“Are you crazy?!” Courfeyrac shouted. “You, me, and Enjolras, we’ve got to stick together now more than ever!”

 

“Oh, and that’s supposed to explain why you ran off to the owlery all by yourself with Slytherin’s monster running loose, is it?” Combeferre raised his eyebrows. 

 

Courfeyrac glared. “That’s not fair. I needed to be alone!” 

 

“You need to  _ not  _ be alone right now!” Combeferre huffed. “You need someone with you all the time!”   
  


“What’re you or Enjolras going to do to protect me from a freaking monster?” Courfeyrac snapped. 

 

“Exactly!” Combeferre exclaimed.

 

“What?” Courfeyrac said. “But you just said —”

 

“That’s why you need to go home!”   
  


“Wha—  _ No! _ ” Courfeyrac leapt to his feet. “Combeferre, that will only prove to whoever’s doing this that they  _ can  _ drive the people who come from families that don’t have magic out of Hogwarts!”

 

“It’ll only be until they figure out who it is that’s doing this!” Combeferre said, getting to his feet as well.    
  
“Who knows when that’ll be!” Courfeyrac said. “What if they never do?”

 

“They will! Right now, though, it’s about being  _ safe! _ ” 

 

“It’s about being strong!” Courfeyrac threw his arms out to the side. “Combeferre, they arrested Hagrid last night —  _ Hagrid! _ We all know that Hagrid isn’t the one doing this! The culprit is getting  _ exactly  _ what they want! Hagrid isn’t a fully trained wizard and you know what people call him behind his back — and by people I mean the purebloods who think a lot of themselves. I’m sure that anyone who doesn’t want muggleborns here doesn’t want Hagrid here. They’re getting everything they want. The ghost of Gryffindor house has been  _ Petrified.  _ And we’re up to — what?  _ Six  _ muggleborns and a cat lying in the hospital wing? And muggleborns are leaving now, too. Whoever is doing this is getting  _ everything  _ they want —  _ everything!  _ Well, I won’t contribute to it. I’m sticking it out. I’m going to be here when Grantaire wakes up and I’m going to be here with you and Enjolras. I’m going to be brave, Combeferre. But more than that, I’m doing what’s  _ right. _ ”

 

Combeferre frowned. “Do you have some kind of a death wish?”

 

Courfeyrac glared at him and pointed at the doorway. “Get out.”

 

“Courfeyrac —”

 

“ _ Out! _ ”

 

Combeferre sighed. “You know where to find me, when you want to talk,” he said. “When you  _ come to your senses,  _ I mean.”

 

***

 

“So,” Enjolras sighed as he sat back in his chair. He and Combeferre were at a table in the back corner of the library. “There’s no way  _ he’s  _ going home.”

 

“I think we could still convince him,” Combeferre said. “I know we need to give him a day or so to cool off, but if we talk to him together then I think he might see how concerned we are and that might make him realize just how —”

 

“Oh, no, I’m not about to tell him he needs to go home,” Enjolras said. 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Well, I see exactly where he’s coming from,” Enjolras said. “And if I were him, I’d do the same thing he’s doing now.”

 

Combeferre couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But — but  _ Enjolras,  _ he could be —”

 

“Petrified.” Enjolras nodded. “Maybe even killed. I know that.  _ Courfeyrac  _ knows that. But he’s absolutely right. If people keep giving the culprit what they want then the attacks are never going to stop. They won’t stop until all the muggleborns are gone. And people  _ do  _ keep giving this person exactly what they’re aiming to get — sending Hagrid away, sending muggleborns home —”

 

“Sending Dumbledore away,” someone interrupted. 

 

Combeferre and Enjolras looked up at the same time that Harry and Ron were dropping into the two empty seats beside them. 

 

“Come again?” Combeferre said. 

 

“Someone from the Ministry of Magic showed up last night to tell Dumbledore that they’d voted on it and he has to step down as headmaster,” Harry informed them. “We saw it happen.”

 

“ _ No! _ ” Enjolras whined and he buried his face in his hands. 

 

“There’ll be deaths next, with Dumbledore gone,” Combeferre sighed. 

 

“That’s what Hagrid said,” Ron said. 

 

Enjolras lifted his head from his hands. “I still can’t believe that they arrested Hagrid, of all people. It’s ridiculous.”

 

“Hagrid is innocent,” Ron told them. 

 

“Well, obviously,” Combeferre said. 

 

“No, I mean that we have proof,” Ron said.    
  


“We found out why they think Hagrid is the Heir of Slytherin,” Harry said. “We looked into it. We’re absolutely positive it wasn’t him.”

 

“Well, that’s great!” Enjolras grinned. “You’ve got to tell Professor McGonagall!”   
  


“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, “about that…”

 

“What?” Combeferre raised his eyebrows. 

 

“It’s just that, see, the way we  _ acquired  _ this information…” Ron said. “It’s… um...”

 

“How  _ do  _ you get all your information, anyway?” Enjolras asked. He crossed his arms across his chest. “They haven’t made any sort of announcement about Dumbledore yet, but you  _ saw him  _ when he was told he had to leave. Hagrid’s in Azkaban, and you two have proof that he’s innocent. You have proof that Malfoy isn’t the Heir of Slytherin because you — you snuck into the Slytherin common room? How’d you even do that? How did I not see you?”

 

“You weren’t there,” Ron said with a shrug.

 

“But how’d you get in?” Enjolras asked.

 

“That is — er —  _ classified, _ ” Harry said. 

 

“Right…” Combeferre said slowly. 

 

“Your common room password really sucks, by the way,” Ron said to Enjolras. 

 

“Ugh, yeah I know,” Enjolras huffed. 

 

“What’s the password?” Combeferre asked with a frown. 

 

“ _ Pureblood, _ ” Enjolras said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

 

“Well, anyway, we’d better be off,” Harry said. 

 

Ron waved goodbye. “See you around.” 

 

Enjolras sighed. “Dumbledore  _ gone. _ ” 

 

“Now you see why Courfeyrac should go home?” Combeferre raised his eyebrows.

 

Enjolras considered this for a short while, but then he shook his head. “No. He’s standing up for what he believes in — for what’s  _ right.  _ I’m with him. Like I said, if I were in his position I’d do the exact same thing.”

 

Combeferre sighed. “Of course you would.”

 

“You don’t believe me?” Enjolras questioned. 

 

“No, I do,” Combeferre said. “But then I’d be pissed at you, too.”

 

***

 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go home, you know? I’ll stand my ground no matter what.”

 

“I agree. I’m with you. And hey, I’m right here to make sure you’re okay at all times when Combeferre and Enjolras can’t be with you!”

 

“Thank you! You’re the best!”

 

Courfeyrac was sitting on the floor in the Hufflepuff common room with Jehan. He was ranting to him about everything that Combeferre had said to him in the owlery earlier that day, but he was also trying with all his might to teach his friend how to play checkers. 

 

“Can we just play some good old wizard’s chess? Please?” Jehan sighed. 

 

“What on earth is wizard’s chess?” Courfeyrac asked with wide eyes. 

 

“Well, it’s like chess,” Jehan said, “but — you know —  _ for wizard’s. _ ”

 

“I don’t even know how to play regular chess,” said Courfeyrac. 

 

“Oh,” Jehan sighed and he looked down at the checkerboard, trying to decide what move he should make next. After a while, he said, “Courf? Can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Yeah, dude, you can take my piece right there,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“No, no, I don’t want to talk about checkers,” Jehan said. “I want to talk about…  _ me.  _ Sorry — wait — sorry, that sounds pretentious.”

 

“No, man, it’s cool,” Courfeyrac said. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Jehan assured him. “It’s just that — well — okay, so basically, I’ve been feeling really confused recently. Not just recently, actually. I still am confused. See, Courfeyrac, sometimes I don’t feel… quite like I’m… a boy? If that makes any sense at all.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Courfeyrac said slowly and he nodded. “So you’re transgender?”

 

“Mm, no,” Jehan said. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before going on. “I don’t feel like I’m a boy. I don’t feel like I’m a girl either. I feel like I’m — I don’t know — caught somewhere in between I guess, or like I’m both at the same time, or maybe like I’m somewhere far away from gender and that I’m  _ neither. _ ”

 

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said. “Okay. Cool.”

 

“Cool?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You’re cool with all that?”

 

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Well, you know, some people —” Jehan mumbled and shrugged his shoulders. 

 

“Pfft!” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “ _ Some people  _ are dumb and when they give you problems that you don’t want to deal with, you let me know and  _ I’ll  _ deal with them.”

 

A huge grin spread across Jehan’s face. “Thank you, Courf.”

 

“Of course, anything,” Courfeyrac said. “Is there anything that I can do to — er — make you feel less confused and more comfortable? Do you want to use a different name or something that I should know about?”

 

“No, no different name, thanks,” Jehan said. “But if you could use different pronouns? Like they and them? That’d be really great.”

 

“Your wish is my command!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. 

 

“Awesome,” Jehan grinned. “Thank you so much! Also — well — actually, no never mind, I won’t ask that of you.”

 

“No!” Courfeyrac said. “Tell me! Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I’m here for you.”

 

Jehan smiled again. “Well, I was just thinking that — I’m not asking you to go out and tell people this — but I was thinking that if anyone  _ uses  _ the — you know — he and him and his pronouns around you, specifically for me, then maybe you could just calmly correct them? And let them know that I — because I’m not ashamed. I know I’m stammering a lot but it’s just hard to talk about. I know I’m barely thirteen years old, but this is something I’ve known about myself for a long, long time. I can’t remember ever feeling like a boy, or even thinking I was one even though that’s what my parents told me I was. What  _ everybody  _ told me I was.”

 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Jehan,” Courfeyrac said. “I’ve got your back. Anyone who uses male pronouns, I’ll let them know what’s up.”

 

Jehan beamed. “Thank you, Courfeyrac.  _ Thank you. _ ”

 

“Don’t sweat it,” Courfeyrac said.

 

“Hey, Courfeyrac!” 

 

Courfeyrac looked up to find that Cedric Diggory was striding over to him. “Hi, Cedric. What’s up?”

 

“Your friend is hanging about outside the common room, hoping you’ll come out sooner or later,” Cedric told him. “The one with the glasses?”

 

“ _ Combeferre, _ ” Courfeyrac sighed. He turned to Jehan. “Is it okay if I go and talk to him?” he asked.

 

Jehan nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to try and figure out my next move.” They gestured to the checkerboard. 

 

“I literally told — you know what? Never mind.” Courfeyrac got to his feet and headed for the common room exit. 

 

“Courf!” Combeferre cried. 

 

“Hey, Ferre, what’s up?” Courfeyrac said. “Cedric said that you’ve been hanging about out here.”

 

“Yeah, I wanted to talk,” Combeferre said. “About earlier. I’m sorry, Courf, I was hard on you. I didn’t mean to snap at you like I did, I’m just so worried about you, you know?”

 

Courfeyrac sighed. “I know,” he said. “I know that you meant well. I’m not mad.”

 

“Well, that’s good, because you’re about to be when you hear what I have to say,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Oh, no,” Courfeyrac said with a frown. 

 

“You need to go home.”

 

“Combeferre!”

 

“Listen to me!”

 

“I don’t want to!”

 

“They sent Dumbledore away!”

 

Courfeyrac froze. “They what?”

 

“They  _ sent Dumbledore away, _ ” Combeferre repeated. 

 

“Who’s they?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“The Ministry of Magic,” Combeferre answered. 

 

“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac hissed. 

 

“There’s going to be deaths next with him gone, you know,” Combeferre said. 

 

“I don’t care,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“I know you don’t, but you should,” Combeferre said. “Remember when we came back to Hogwarts after holiday break? Remember how upset we were that Grantaire hadn’t gone home for the holiday? Remember when  _ you  _ told him that he should’ve gone home and been safe?”

 

“I was wrong.”

 

“You weren’t, though! He’s lying, Petrified, in the hospital wing now!”

 

“Yes, I was!” Courfeyrac said. “He was standing up for what’s right! I should have been doing the same!”

 

“Grantaire did not stay here because it was the noble thing to do and you and I both know that,” Combeferre said. “He stayed here because he didn’t want to face his family.”

 

“Whatever the reason was, he stayed! That’s the point!” Courfeyrac huffed.

 

“No, I don’t think that is the  _ point  _ actually,” Combeferre said. “Courfeyrac,  _ please  _ just —”

 

“No, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac sighed. “I’ve already told you no. I’m done with all this talk of me leaving. I  _ won’t  _ do it.”

 

“What if your mum makes you leave?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“She won’t, trust me,” Courfeyrac sighed again, then before Combeferre could say another word he turned his back on his friend and climbed back into the Hufflepuff common room. 

 

***

 

Enjolras was sat in the hospital wing at Grantaire’s bedside. He had a book open in his lap but he wasn’t paying very much attention to it. He was gazing down at Grantaire as if willing him to wake up would actually work. Grantaire would  _ not  _ wake up, of course, and Enjolras did know that. Still, there was no harm in hoping. Or maybe there was. Enjolras didn’t much care anymore. 

 

It had been a several days since Courfeyrac and Combeferre had fought about what Courfeyrac should be doing what with the current crisis at Hogwarts. Courfeyrac and Combeferre weren’t talking to one another and Enjolras had tried and failed to repair their friendship. Nothing was working and it all looked rather hopeless (which was fitting because, after all,  _ everything  _ was looking rather hopeless these days).

 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed as he set his book aside on the end table. “If you were here I’ll bet you’d know how to smack some sense into them. I suppose you  _ are _ here, though. Just not — oh, never mind.”

 

Yes, Grantaire was right there in front of him but there was no sign that he could hear anything that Enjolras was saying at all. 

 

“I’m really talking to you now, aren’t I,” Enjolras said with a frown. “I’m talking to a Petrified person. I might as well be talking to myself. Does that count as talking to myself?”

 

Grantaire had no answers for Enjolras, of course. 

 

“I’m worried about them, you know?” Enjolras went on talking anyway. “I can’t imagine how lonely they must be. We’re all lonely, of course. Maybe Courfeyrac is alright, he’s got Jehan after all. But Combeferre and I don’t really have friends from our houses, you know. Nothing has been the same since you were attacked. It’s all become such a mess.” 

 

“You know he can’t hear you, right?”

 

Enjolras looked up in surprise at the dark haired girl in Slytherin robes that had just called him out on talking to a Petrified person. He noticed with a sense of curiosity that she had her hand clamped over one eye. “Oh, hello, Eponine,” he said. “Yes, I know. Thanks.”

 

“So why are you doing it?” she asked. 

 

“I don’t know,” Enjolras admitted. “Comfort?”

 

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

 

“What happened to your eye?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Montparnasse,” Eponine sighed. “He jinxed me.” 

 

“I should’ve guessed,” Enjolras said. “He’s a jerk.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Eponine said. “He’s been picking fights with first years and second years left and right lately.”

 

“Never kids his own age, though,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

“No, of course not,” Eponine said. “Because he knows he could never beat them.”

 

“Exactly,” Enjolras said and he nodded. “Well, I’d better let you get to dealing with that and I should get to dinner. Combeferre and Courfeyrac might kill each other if I’m not there to stop them.”

 

“So they really did have a falling out? ” Eponine asked. “I’m not just seeing things?”

 

“Oh, yeah, they did,” Enjolras sighed. “And it was pretty bad.”

 

“Yikes,” Eponine said. “Well, you have fun with that!”

 

“Thanks,” Enjolras laughed. “Not likely, but I’ll try,” 

 

***

 

“Courfeyrac!”   
  


“Combeferre? What’re you doing away from your class?”

 

Combeferre huffed. “That’s exactly what I was going to ask you,” he said. 

 

“I just need to use the bathroom,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“You shouldn’t be walking around all alone,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Neither should you,” Courfeyrac said. “No one is really safe. Not with Dumbledore gone.”

 

“If you understand that then why won’t you —”

 

“Don’t you see?” Courfeyrac said. “With Dumbledore gone, we’re all on an even playing field. We’re all screwed.”

 

“Courf —”

 

“Would you two please shut up?” Someone hissed. 

 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked over to see Harry and Ron peering around the corner into the next corridor. Ron motioned for Courfeyrac and Combeferre to come over and look with them. They looked around the corner and spied the writing on the wall from Halloween, “THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.”

 

“What’s that underneath it?” Combeferre whispered. 

 

Ron and Harry shushed him again. 

 

“— left another message,” they heard Professor McGonagall say. “Right underneath the first one.  _ ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ _ ”

 

“Who is it?” Someone else asked Professor McGonagall.

 

“Ginny Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall.

 

Ron’s face turned a sickly shade of green and he slid against the wall, down to the floor. 

 

“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac whispered. 

 

“Come on,” Harry said gently. “Ron, come on, let’s get out of here.” He helped his friend to his feet. “You should get back to your dormitories,” he said to Courfeyrac and Combeferre, then he set off down the corridor. 

 

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were both silent for a while and they heard Professor McGonagall speak again: “This is the end of Hogwarts.”

 

“We’ve got to find Enjolras,” Courfeyrac hissed and he set off quickly toward the nearest staircase. 

 

“ _ Courfeyrac. _ ” Combeferre followed after him and, once they were out of earshot of the teachers, he shouted, “Courf!”

 

“What?” Courfeyrac snapped. 

 

“Slow down,” Combeferre huffed. “You need to go back to your dormitory. Both of us do. They’ll be making a school wide announcement any minute now, for people to go back to their common rooms.”

 

“I don’t care! What we  _ need  _ to do is find Enjolras!” Courfeyrac said as he stormed down the staircase.

 

“Courfeyrac, he’ll find out sooner or later,” Combeferre said. “The Heads of House will be coming around to tell us what’s happened pretty soon. Professor Snape will go tell the Slytherins.”

 

“I’m going to find Enjolras and I’m going to find him  _ now, _ ” Courfeyrac said stubbornly. 

 

“Just — just wait, please!” Combeferre exclaimed. 

 

Courfeyrac stopped in the middle of the staircase and whipped around. His face was red and his eyes were puffy. “ _ What?! _ ”

 

“Courf, you’re crying,” Combeferre said in a small voice. 

 

“Yes, I’m aware. Thanks.”

 

“Why — I mean I know it’s all very hectic and upsetting,” Combeferre said slowly, “and dear  _ god,  _ it’s so terrible for Ron’s family… but we didn’t know her. Why are you crying?”

 

Courfeyrac drew in a deep breath. “‘This is the end of Hogwarts.’ That’s what McGonagall said. They’re going to send us home!”

 

“Oh, Courf,” Combeferre sighed. 

 

“Despite everything,” Courfeyrac went on slowly, “despite the attacks and people like Malfoy and some really crap professors like Snape and everything with Quirrell last year and everything with  _ Lockhart this year!  _ Despite all of that… these have been the best two years of my life. Learning magic, playing Quidditch… getting to know you and Enjolras and Grantaire. It’s all been the best part of my life. I don’t want it to be over — it  _ can’t  _ be over! I can’t have things go back to the way they were before! In my life before Hogwarts I — I felt  _ stuck.  _ And I was only eleven. I’m only thirteen now. I can’t go back to that, I won’t go back, Combeferre.” 

 

Combeferre sighed again. “So what do you suggest we do, Courf?”

 

“Find the Chamber,” Courfeyrac said and Combeferre laughed but Courfeyrac stared back at him with a serious expression. 

 

“Oh, you aren’t joking?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“No. I’m not.” Courfeyrac shook his head.

 

Combeferre shook his head as well. “No. No way. No chance in hell you’re dragging me along on this suicide mission of yours. No chance in hell  _ you’re  _ going on this suicide mission of yours. You could  _ actually die,  _ Courfeyrac. You’re not going.”

 

“I’m prepared to die.”

 

“You’re thirteen.”

 

“Yeah?  _ You’re _ thirteen.”

 

“Yeah? And I’m not going!”

 

“Well, I am!” Courfeyrac turned his back on Combeferre and made to continue down the steps toward the dungeons. 

 

“Courfeyrac, wait up!” Combeferre huffed, and he couldn’t quite believe he was doing this. “I’m coming with you!”

 

They raced down the steps, all the way to the dungeons.

 

“How’re we going to get in?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“This was  _ your  _ plan,” Combeferre sighed. “It’s okay. I know the password.”

 

“Incredible!” Courfeyrac said as they reached the dungeons and he looked around. “So where is it?”

 

“Oh.” Combeferre frowned. “Well now  _ that _ I do not know.”

 

“Well, that’s certainly a problem,” Courfeyrac said. 

  
“Yes, it sure is,” Combeferre agreed. 

 

They wandered up and down the corridors and Combeferre shouted the password at random paintings. It won’t come as a shock to know that this plan didn’t work.

 

“Hey, asshats!” Someone shouted at them and they whipped around. 

 

Courfeyrac glared. “Montparnasse… What? Have you just come from beating up another first year?”

 

“None of your business,” Montparnasse snapped. “Looking for your friend?”

 

“None of  _ your  _ business,” Combeferre mocked him. 

 

“Well, you aren’t going to find him around here,” Montparnasse said. “It’s free period. You’ve  _ got  _ to know where he goes all the time, whenever he’s not in class or at a meal.”

 

“Erm — in the library? Studying?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“In his dormitory?” Combeferre guessed. 

 

Montparnasse laughed. “Why don’t you check the hospital wing, idiots?”

 

Courfeyrac and Combeferre glanced at one another while Montparnasse laughed again and swagger away from them.  

 

“Have — have  _ you  _ gone to visit Grantaire?” Combeferre asked slowly. 

 

“That depends,” said Courfeyrac. “Have  _ you? _ ” 

 

Combeferre paused for a short while. “ _ No, _ ” he answered slowly. 

 

“Oh, good,” Courfeyrac breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

“Has Enjolras been visiting him all this time?” Combeferre asked. 

 

Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “No idea. Let’s go talk to him, though.” 

 

While they were running back up staircase after staircase, McGonagall’s voice rang out, echoing through the castle: “ _ All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please. _ ”

 

“I cannot  _ believe  _ we’re ignoring direct orders from a professor,” Combeferre whined. 

 

“Sort of exhilarating though, isn’t it?” Courfeyrac grinned. 

 

“No!” Combeferre said and Courfeyrac laughed. 

 

Though there had been a school wide order to return to House dormitories at once, when Courfeyrac and Combeferre ran into the hospital wing, Enjolras was still seated at Grantaire’s side. 

 

“Enjolras —” Courfeyrac huffed, out of breath. “Where’s Madam Pomfrey?”

 

“She wanted to see what all the fuss was about so she went to the staff room,” Enjolras said. “I hid beneath Grantaire’s bed until she was gone.”

 

“Why didn’t you go back to your dormitory?” Combeferre asked.    
  
“Why didn’t  _ you two  _ go back to  _ yours? _ ” Enjolras asked. 

 

“We wanted to come find you,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“What? You knew I wouldn’t go back to my dormitory?” Enjolras asked them, eyebrows raised. 

 

“We knew there was trouble before they made the announcement,” Courfeyrac explained. “Just hear us out — there was another attack. Not like the rest, though. Someone  _ died. _ ”

 

“What?!” Enjolras yelped. 

  
“She probably died, anyway,” Combeferre said with a deep brown. “If she hasn’t already then she will. The Heir of Slytherin’s got her in the Chamber and — well, no one knows where the Chamber is so nobody can find her.” 

 

“Who was it?” Enjolras asked. 

 

“Ginny Weasley,” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“Ron’s little sister?” Enjolras gasped and Combeferre and Courfeyrac nodded. “Oh, no!”

 

Courfeyrac smiled. “So we’ve decided that —”

 

“Courfeyrac!” Combeferre interrupted. “ _ Courfeyrac  _ has decided —”

 

“ — we are going to go and find the Chamber of Secrets!” Courfeyrac exclaimed joyously. 

 

“That,” Enjolras said, “is a terrible plan. You’re thirteen. You know hardly any magic at all. You won’t be able to defend yourself against Salazar Slytherin’s monster with any spell out of  _ Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2. _ ”

 

“That’s exactly what I was trying to tell him,” Combeferre sighed. “But he never listens.”

 

“Whatever, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Come on, Enjolras, you’ve got to come with us! We need you!”

 

“I can’t,” Enjolras said. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Why not? What happened to doing what’s right?” Courfeyrac asked. 

 

“Courf, calm down,” Combeferre sighed. 

 

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Enjolras said. “But I can’t go. I’ve got to stay. I can’t leave Grantaire all alone.”

 

“Um  — Enj?” Courfeyrac said, eyebrows raised. “I’m pretty sure Grantaire isn’t going anywhere.” 

 

“I can’t just leave him all alone with the monster running about,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

“I think he’ll be okay,” Combeferre said. 

 

“What if the monster comes around to finish everyone in here off?” Enjolras asked.

 

“I don’t think it’s all too likely,” Combeferre said. 

 

“Yeah, I mean it hasn’t yet, so…” Courfeyrac said. 

 

“It’s my fault he’s like this in the first place,” Enjolras said, gesturing to Grantaire just lying there, unmoving and seemingly lifeless. “I can’t leave him now. Not when I might as well have put him there.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Combeferre said. “Back it up. How is it your fault he’s like this?”

 

Enjolras sighed heavily. “He told me that he was going to the library that day, before the Quidditch match. And I let him go. I let him go all alone and I asked him if I should go with him and he said no and I just  _ went with it.  _ I had a bad feeling about it at the time, a bad feeling that I just couldn’t explain. Now I know why. Oh, it’s all my fault.” 

 

“Oh, Enjolras,” Combeferre said and he shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen to him. And anyway, even if you were there you couldn’t have stopped Grantaire from being attacked.”

 

“All three people who were attacked that day, in the library, were  _ alone, _ ” Enjolras said. 

 

“That’s just a coincidence,” Courfeyrac said. “Look, Enjolras, I’m sorry you’re feeling this way and I wish you would have come to us with this sooner so that we could have helped you instead of you sitting beside Grantaire’s Petrified corpse —”

 

Enjolras sniffled. 

 

“You’re being  _ insensitive, _ ” Combeferre coughed. 

 

Courfeyrac went on as if he hadn’t noticed the interruptions at all. “ — but right now we need to go find this Chamber so that maybe Ginny Weasley will be okay and so that Hogwarts doesn’t have to be shut down.”

 

“Do you have any idea where it might be?” Combeferre asked. 

 

“No clue,” Courfeyrac said and he shook his head. “Maybe we should go find Harry and Ron? They seem to know about  _ everything  _ going on in the castle.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Enjolras and I were saying to them the other day!” Combeferre said. “That’s a good idea. Let’s go.”

 

The two of them were lost in their own little world, and blinded by their determination. They scurried off without another word to Enjolras, so Enjolras just sat there with Grantaire and didn’t dare to move. 

 

“What do I do now?” Enjolras asked Grantaire but, as per usual, Grantaire did not answer. 

 

“I should go after them,” Enjolras decided aloud. “We’ll be stronger in numbers, right? And you’ll be okay here… right? Madam Pomfrey should be back any time now, and she’ll be here watching over you and everyone else. Yeah.”

 

Enjolras got to his feet but he didn’t take his eyes off of his friend. “I’m so sorry, Grantaire. For all of this.”

 

Then he took off like a bullet, out of the hospital wing, down corridors, around corners. He ducked expertly behind mantelpieces and statues to avoid the gaze of professors who were patrolling the castle, on the lookout for students. 

 

It was only once Enjolras was approaching the writing on the wall, that no one had been able to figure out how to wash away, that a realization dawned on him: he had no idea where Harry and Ron might be, therefore he had no idea where Combeferre and Courfeyrac might be looking for them.

 

He walked up to the dark red letters and noticed that there was new, fresh writing beneath the original message. The smaller letters were still wet. He read;

 

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

 

_ HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER. _

 

Enjolras frowned. “Poor Ginny,” he murmured. 

 

“Bet you’re feeling real lucky right about now, Enjolras,” a voice came from behind him. 

 

Enjolras whipped around. “Montparnasse,” he said with a frown. “What are you doing out here?”

 

“Could ask you the same thing,” Montparnasse replied with a shrug. 

 

“Go away,” Enjolras huffed.

 

“As I said, I bet you’re feeling really lucky right now,” Montparnasse repeated himself and gestured to the wall. 

 

“About this?” Enjolras asked, eyes narrowed. “Montparnasse, a girl  _ died.  _ What about that would make me feel at all lucky?”

 

“It wasn’t one of your Mudblood friends,” Montparnasse said. 

 

“What’d you just call them?” Enjolras snapped. 

 

Montparnasse cackled. “Word’s already gotten around about who it was. She was pureblood. Blood traitor, of course. Those Weasleys are Muggle loving filth. But pureblood all the same. It  _ should  _ have been one of your Mudblood friends to get dragged into the Chamber of Secrets. Grantaire’s lying in a hospital bed, sure, but Courfeyrac is alive and well, is he not?”

 

“You shut up about my friends,” Enjolras seethed. 

 

“They don’t belong here,” Montparnasse said. “And I think that, deep down, you know that.”

 

“I know nothing of the sort,” Enjolras huffed. “What I  _ know  _ is that they were raised differently and that’s all. They deserve to be here at Hogwarts just as much as you or I.”

 

“You’re a lousy excuse for a Slytherin,” Montparnasse spat. 

 

“I’m a Slytherin because I’m ambitious, not because I think I’m better than anyone else.” 

 

_ Or, at least, that’s what the Hat told me,  _ Enjolras thought to himself miserably. Being a Slytherin was still a sore spot for him. 

 

“I’ve seen you, you know,” Montparnasse said. “I’ve noticed you sneaking off to the hospital wing at every chance you get. What’s up with you and him, huh? I bet you’re a couple of queers.”

 

“I’m not taking the bait,” Enjolras said. 

 

“What bait?” Montparnasse asked, feigning innocence. 

 

“You can say what you like,” Enjolras said. “But I won’t bite. I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not going to fight you.” He turned to leave, stalking away down the corridor. 

 

“Still ashamed that you’re a faggot, Enjolras?”

 

In a moment, Enjolras had whipped around to face Montparnasse again and he had his wand out and at the ready. “ _ Don’t you dare use that word! _ ”

 

Montparnasse was cackling again. “You  _ are  _ one.”

 

“I don’t know what I am but I know that I sure as hell won’t stand for you using that  _ shameful  _ word,” Enjolras snapped. “You’re not going to make confused kids even more confused by making them  _ feel bad  _ —”

 

“Enjolras, you’re going to have to get used to a couple of words that you don’t like,” Montparnasse chuckled. “If you’re a faggot and all your friends are Mudbloods then you’re going to be  _ surrounded _ by words like that for all of your sad little life.”

 

“ _ Flipendo! _ ” Enjolras cried and Montparnasse went flying backward through the air and landed hard on his rear end. “Don’t underestimate me, Montparnasse. And if anyone is going to suffer miserably through a sad little life, it’s going to be you.”

 

Montparnasse made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl then stuck his wand in the air and, before Enjolras could think of any spells to block whatever was about to come his way, he shouted, “ _ Immobulus! _ ”

 

Enjolras yelped, but no noise came out. He was frozen where he stood. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body. 

 

Montparnasse laughed again. Enjolras watched him get up off the floor — watched him walk toward him — watched him reach out with his hands. 

 

Enjolras’ stomach curled in fear. 

 

Montparnasse took hold of Enjolras by his hair, dragged him a few feet to the side, and slammed his head into the wall. There was an intense, sharp pain for a few moments, then Enjolras hit the ground and the world around him went black. 

 

***

 

Enjolras woke with a groan and he reached up instinctively to massage his head. 

 

“You’ve gotten yourself into a world of trouble, you know, being found outside your dormitory, bleeding from the head,” Madam Pomfrey said as she walked over and dribbled something down his throat that made the pain go away immediately. “Not just after hours, but while the whole school was on high alert.”

 

“Yeah,” Enjolras sighed. 

 

“You’ve cost Slytherin the House Cup,” Madam Pomfrey said with her hands stuck on her hips. 

 

“That’s alright,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “I don’t care much for the House Cup, and all of Slytherin already hates me anyway.”

 

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. “Come on over here, you’ll be glad to see this.”

 

Enjolras climbed out of bed and followed Madam Pomfrey over to Hermione Granger’s bed where Professor Sprout was pouring a potion into her mouth. 

 

Enjolras grinned. “They’re waking up,” he said. 

  
“Some of them already have.” Madam Pomfrey gestured to Colin Creevey, Justin Flinch-Fletchley, and Penelope Clearwater who were sitting up and looking around as if they were seeing the world for the very first time. 

 

“Come on over here, laddie,” Professor Sprout said to Enjolras. “I’m waking your friend up now.”   
  
Enjolras scurried over to Grantaire’s bedside and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. He had the capability to be a terribly impatient person at times.

 

***

 

Being Petrified — it’s like one moment you’re walking around, looking around every corner with a mirror, and the next thing you know there’s a pair of creepy yellow eyes in your mirror and then you’re stuck in this void, this warped version of reality, and you’re stuck there for years and years… Then again, maybe it was only a few minutes. You can’t tell.

 

Grantaire came to after weeks and weeks of lying there, frozen solid, and the first thing he saw was a beautiful face, stunning blue eyes, and a halo of blond curls. 

 

Waking up from Petrification was sort of like being reborn and Grantaire said, “ _ Enjolras, _ ” with his first breath. 

 

This was the moment in his life that Grantaire would come to call The Beginning of the End.

 

***

 

“Overall,” Courfeyrac said when all four friends were sat on the train ride heading home together, “I’d say that first year was a more enjoyable year for all of us.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

“Most definitely.”

 

“I don’t know, I mean I kind of just got to sleep for like two months and none of us had to take exams.” Grantaire shrugged. “That’s a plus.” 

 

“Shut up, Grantaire, people almost died this year,” Combeferre sighed. 

 

“People almost died last year, too,” Grantaire said. “I’m sensing a theme.”

 

“Oh, god, I hope not!” Enjolras whined.

 

“Next year is going to be a good year,” Courfeyrac said and he nodded. “I can feel it. Last year one of our professors was working for an evil wizard war lord. This year there was a racist ghost who set a giant snake loose to wreak havoc on the muggleborns of Hogwarts.” He laughed. “I mean, what could they possibly throw our way next?”


End file.
